


temporal illusions

by cloudynebula, Lapifors



Category: Naruto
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Confessions, Dark Past, Drama & Romance, Fix-It of Sorts, Flashbacks, Hatake Kakashi Has Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Might Guy Has Feelings, POV Alternating, Regret, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25949329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudynebula/pseuds/cloudynebula, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lapifors/pseuds/Lapifors
Summary: Kakashi asks Gai to consent to a genjutsu to explore different events in their shared lives.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai | Might Guy
Comments: 53
Kudos: 117





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> we originally meant for this story to be released on 7/7, but it became its own thing haha. the story takes place right after the events in the novel _kakashi hiden_ and mixes in various canon from the manga, anime, novels, and video games. pov switches happen in the chapter break. thanks for checking it out and hope you enjoy! - lapi

They’re seated in the Hokage’s quarters — _no, your quarters soon_ , his mind supplies in a voice that sounds suspiciously like Lady Tsunade — and on a bed Kakashi supposes will have to be his for a little while. _Only until Naruto’s ready,_ his thoughts say in his disinterested tone. Then comes the follow-up, anxious and heavy — _But are you ready?_

His eyes, both black, both unspecial and freeingly normal, skirt around the borders of his guest’s visage, almost too afraid to check what it’s in the center. Instead, Kakashi’s sight picks details like a painter loading up his palette, searching for things complementary and analogous, colorful and loose.

Even though _he_ ’s got to be struggling to put the jumpsuit on every day, the forest-green spandex stretches over strong limbs, over damaged muscle. The mockingly clean white cast binds a leg into a form, a shape of what once was. And there’s the eye-catching red of _his_ belt, the shocking orange of a ludicrous leg warmer, form-hugging in a way which makes jealousy flare. Maito Gai is colorful, yes. However, out of all those hues, Kakashi has always liked the dark glossiness of Gai’s black hair and eyes.

He would never admit this, of course. But that’s Kakashi, he doesn’t admit to many things until there is no time, no chance for speaking words that hurt like pulling teeth. He’s never on time to tell people how he felt, feels. It’s in his nature, fate-woven by deities. But a God or he supposes a Goddess, or more aptly, the destruction of such legendary beings has shown him Fate can be changed. That a cycle can be broken.

Some dead remain dead. But others come back to life and are _meant to live_. The faith of humanity has ascended the worship of divinity. And somehow, Kakashi has been given a chance to overturn his final, lingering regret. Minato-sensei and Kushina-san are at peace. Obito and Rin no longer call out for Kakashi from beyond the grave.

Somehow, Kakashi survives. He is older than they all were in death. However, there is no pain with that acknowledgment.

Hatake Kakashi is alive. But so is Maito Gai.

And life is worth living.

“So!” Gai starts, unaware of the blithering drivel Kakashi’s mind has been postulating for the last minute, and rubbernecks around as energetically as if he is on some sightseeing tour. “Are you thinking of redecorating when you move in, Kakashi? It’s kind of bland here, isn’t it? A bit, hm, lifeless?”

 _Not as lifeless as that dreary hospital room had been,_ Kakashi’s thoughts automatically quip. He doesn’t voice it. Kakashi has gained the wisdom of age and has lost most of youth’s corrosive pride.

“I don’t think I’ll be using this place much,” he admits. Twiddles his thumbs.

“Nonsense! You’re going to be our next leader! You know what, I’ll write you a hanging scroll so you can energize yourself every morning! It’ll say — Responsibility!” Gai puffs up his chest, and it reminds Kakashi of a time where he held his ear against it in hope for a beat or breath.

“Love getting another ‘Responsibility’,” answers Kakashi, uncomfortable with where his thoughts have headed and trying for levity. Gai easily picks his meager attempt at conversation up; he has always since they were children.

“I promise you’ll like this one, I’ve been practicing calligraphy quite diligently! Hours of hard work!”

Kakashi fondly smiles behind his mask, big enough to let Gai see the faint contour in the protective fabric.

“Working out a whole new set of muscles, huh?”

To Kakashi’s question, Gai raises his right hand and curls the fingers into a thumbs-up.

“You know it! It’s all in the arm, not in the wrist,” Gai says.

“Yeah?”

Kakashi reaches over and simply pulls on Gai’s hand to — _don’t check for injuries_ , his mind berates, and instantly Kakashi knows he was about to. No, he should examine. Examine for strengths, not weaknesses. Gai’s hand is finer, not in the word’s definition of wispy or thin, but the definitions synonymous to greatness. He can crush with enough force to shatter a God’s bones. He can touch with enough gentleness to coax devilry out of a heart.

The pad of Kakashi's thumb traces a familiar path over Gai's knuckles, a motion that's almost second nature at this point. He tells himself he’s searching for any changes, but that reason is becoming less and less pressing. The new scars, always new since Gai cannot stand to be idle and let his flesh be, feel smooth under Kakashi’s probing thumb. It’s strange how Gai’s hands are both new and familiar every time Kakashi has the chance to hold them. It’s almost like Gai’s presence in his life, isn’t it? The warmth of these callused, life-hardened hands is both comforting and, at times, searingly too much.

It’s only in his late age — though he reminds himself not to bring it up lest Gai also becomes jokingly deprecating about the supposed Springtime of their Youth — that Kakashi can admit he’s grown enough to accept he has made a home in the warmth of his best friend. But a small, sharp edge in those thoughts runs along with the soothing observation like a shadow sticking close to the light. Desperate to atone for sins that were never really his, the dark voice hisses, _No._

_You don’t deserve this solace. You didn’t earn it._

_You didn’t fight for it at all._

Derailing that train of thought, Kakashi flips Gai’s hand to palm side up. His hand cups underneath his friend’s as he observes the lines of the palm. If he gave any thought to palmistry, he’d know what these lines on Gai’s hand mean. Where the lifeline is. Where the loveline goes.

Mindlessly, Kakashi begins to gently knead at the skin. He has spent years blaming himself for things — _which weren’t his fault._ This reassuring thought is not originally Kakashi’s. It’s never been his. If it was his, it would sound mocking. Almost pathetic. It would have been an affirmation Kakashi would have ignored, had it not sounded consolingly gentle within the jagged spaces of his mind; if it didn’t mimic something Gai has told him in the past.

Although Kakashi has come to accept he isn’t to blame for every little thing, he is under no delusion he is cleansed of his wrongdoings. There are definitely things he needs to atone for. He has hurt so many people who cared about him, pushing to the point of shoving them away, and the most important of these people is the man sitting across from him.

Before, Kakashi wouldn’t have given Gai’s words precedence above his. Presently, all he wants is more of Gai’s words, from the most ardent dialogues to the quietest whispers. So, he listens. He listens because the endless silence will come one day for both of them, so now is the time for music.

He sneaks a glance at Gai from under his tired lids and short lashes only to find Gai is already looking back at him. If Kakashi’s feeling indulgent in his observation, Gai appears to be curious, yet underneath that “youthful” expression is a fondness only time can imprint onto the skin.

“...Rival?” Gai’s question is polite, nothing heated. Innocent. It’s why Kakashi feels a greater burn in his cheeks hidden behind his mask. The way that he feels is nothing at all similar to innocence. He doesn’t let go of his friend's hand and Gai doesn’t pull back either. They’re at a standstill, an equilibrium.

The question from before returns. _Are you sure you're ready?_

“...You know,” Kakashi braves it, leaning in to whisper. Gai follows suit, undaunted by proximity. Courageous as always. Because of their closeness, Kakashi picks up the scent of Gai’s shampoo. Weak as he is to his impulses, Kakashi allows himself to take a shallow breath and let his senses fill with what he thinks is ylang-ylang.

“Yeah, what do I know?” Gai responds, voice hushed but light in its merry. He quirks an eyebrow, “What are you thinking about, Kakashi?”

Kakashi is thinking about the thing he hasn't been able to stop thinking about for the last few months. The one thought that has been bouncing around his head nonstop. He is thinking about how Gai loves him.

(He must be.)

After everything they’ve been through, everything Kakashi put Gai through, Gai is still by his side; that fact by itself is a staggering point to reflect upon. What else could it be? Nostalgia-tied friendship? The bonds made through war, comrades-in-arms? Is it Gai’s favorite descriptor, this mythical Eternal Rivals? No. Whatever it is he and Gai have, it doesn’t feel so easily categorized; doesn't fit neatly into any of those boxes, none of these words fully describe it, none — except for the one he's been avoiding for the better part of a decade.

“We've gone through a lot together,” Kakashi states. He finally lets go of Gai’s hand and surreally, his hand feels hotter than before. _Maybe_ , he thinks wryly, _the heat of Gai’s passion has leached into my skin_. Unaware of Kakashi’s thoughts, Gai hums lowly in agreement. It encourages Kakashi to continue.

“And… After a certain point, a foolish part of me started to assume you'd always be there. That you'd always be by my side." He can hear the embarrassment tingeing his voice, the heat he felt in his hands resides in his burning cheeks and ears, set ablaze by the stumbling confession, growing hotter in anticipation of the ones to come.

"I just… I started to think that you'd always bounce back no matter what; like the hero in a story. That you'd always, somehow, pull through things that would certainly—no, that would _definitely_ kill anyone else.” His tongue is thick and uncomfortable inside his mouth and forms halted, awkward phrases. Sometimes the words pour out too fast, other moments barely a trickle.

Gai scrutinizes him unflinchingly until his eyes slightly narrow in reaction to the harsh reality at the end of Kakashi’s comment. Then those dark irises relax, soften, and Gai doesn’t speak. Emboldened by Gai's patient silence, Kakashi carries on.

“I hate that I was capable of such childish thoughts and that I justified them for so long. By making you someone untouchable by death in my head, I gave myself an excuse to avoid saying all the things I should have told you years ago. I made myself believe we'd always have time; that I'd always have a chance to explain, to apologize _someday,_ ” he divulges.

“Gai, when you opened the Eighth Gate, that was a real wake up call for me. I’ve had months to think about what I wanted to say when you were in that… for when you would finally wake up. And then, when you did, I thought the words I had readied for so long would be so easy to say, but, well...” His shoulders spring up once and then slump in a listless shrug, "Guess it takes three near-death experiences to finally force me into action."

“Aw, c'mon Kakashi! I thought the flying ship thing was fun!” Gai chuckles, clapping Kakashi on the shoulder and drawing back to place his hand on the bed. Kakashi smiles wistfully at Gai's attempt to lighten up the mood. The place where he and Gai momentarily connected tingles, already missing the warm touch. Yeah, that stupid _Tobishachimaru_ … Another unbelievable, ridiculous chapter in the volumes of their shared lives.

He can't help but recall now all of those stupid, wild things that he and Gai always somehow get (pulled) into, and, the stupid, wild things that he and Gai will get (pulled) into in the future… How many more books will be filled with their joint misadventures? His eyes subconsciously crinkle with joy at the thought of it. Kakashi’s heart constricts, thoughts scattered with the possibilities. Of him and Gai, of him _with_ Gai.

“It was _something_ ," He begins again, finally, refocusing on the task at hand. "But, it just reminded me that as much as our lives aren’t by any stretch ‘normal’ compared to any civilian and we keep getting sidetracked, no, _I_ keep getting sidetracked. I’ve been avoiding telling you this… story for a while.” Kakashi’s eyes flicker up to focus on his friend and finally, concludingly, holds his gaze. Two dark eyes find their match.

As much as every fiber of his being is screaming to look away, Kakashi stands his ground on two shaky pupils. He says, slow but flustered, “It’s kind of a hard story to tell and… uh, a little embarrassing. So… will you do me a favor, Gai?”

“Of course, Rival. Always.”

The immediacy in the response shouldn’t give Kakashi such a rush, but it does. Gai proclaims those words with a heartachingly kind smile; the way his eyes and nose crinkle, his soft hair sliding across his forehead when he grins with his authentic teeth-baring smile has Kakashi discovering a sudden lump in his throat. It’s Gai’s open trust that does it, Kakashi surmises.

He looks away and laughs, tender but ending bitter, “You shouldn’t just agree to things because it’s me, Gai. You don’t even know what I want you to do.”

Gai laughs, a single cheerful harrumph. “And you shouldn’t underestimate me! I know exactly what I’m do—”

“I know you love me, Gai.”

“—ing. Ah...”

From Kakashi’s peripheral vision, he can spot Gai’s head ducking down. His friend's black bangs aren’t long enough to cover the red flush that’s encroaching his features. It’s cute how this boisterous man Kakashi has known his entire life has become genuinely demure.

Gai’s not speaking. As much as Kakashi’s ears strain to hear over his thudding heart, Gai’s lips remain pursed. There's no denial from Gai’s end, but no admission either. Kakashi could still be wrong. His hope could be coloring his perception.

“Can I show you how I feel about you?” Kakashi blurts before it’s too late.

Not this time; this time he won’t be late.

Gai snaps his head up, and those blunt-cut bangs flutter up and then land on his forehead. Kakashi sees Gai blushing in detail now, rosy-cheeked, and — and misses the Sharingan’s eidetic memory for half a second.

No one stirs. Then Gai nods. Kakashi breathes out. Relief, excitement, nervousness, they all try to rush in and cram into Kakashi’s stupid, madly beating heart.

“That favor I wanted you to do for me. Well, it's a genjutsu I wanted permission to use on you. I’ve been working on it for a while now. Nothing special, since I don’t have Obito’s eye anymore,” he explains, breathless, “but, still, it might be disorienting. Just.”

He searches Gai’s eyes for signs of doubt. Indications of regret, hesitation, anything... and finds himself to be the one caught in his friend’s intense gaze. Dark, deep-set eyes probe his own. Gai has always had deeper set eyes since they were kids, framed by the longest, fanned out lashes Kakashi has ever seen on anyone. They cast a soft shadow over the hard edge of his cheeks and it’s a strange contrast to the rest of Gai’s hard-cut features.

Gai smiles with only his eyes. The delicate skin that crimps under Gai’s eyes, now that he’s older, creases deeper whenever the man is happy — or when he’s in terrible despair. Gai cries; it’s a known fact tears seem to stream easily and readily whenever he’s in his grandiose affectations. Kakashi hates how he feels whenever he sees those tears.

The bed shifts, creaking when Gai leans into another position. Kakashi swears in his head. Damn, he keeps wasting their time together, don’t they? He clears his throat and the dark brown of Gai’s irises perk up when they catch more of the room’s light. Kakashi parts his dry lips.

“...No matter what happens or what you hear, will you let me finish first? You can say or do whatever you want after, but will you play along? I think I'll lose my nerve if I don't get all out in one go."

Another nod after the longest moment of Kakashi’s life. Good. Gai’s conviction doesn’t change. Kakashi’s breath quickens.

“Do you trust me?” Kakashi asks, the slightest tease in his question. He knows the answer but a selfish, greedy part of him nonetheless wants to hear Gai say it out loud.

“I trust you.” Gai beams, close-lipped. The smile doesn't fully reach his eyes though he fakes it well. A minuscule falter behind that cheerful mask that'd be unnoticeable to anyone else but Kakashi. That’s unexpected. Maybe Kakashi has misread the cues, blinded by rose-colored glasses, by hope. Maybe he just made a huge fool of himself. Maybe Gai doesn't — then, without warning, Gai tenderly grabs Kakashi’s hand and says it again, firmer, “I trust you.”

There's a look in Gai's eyes now that Kakashi can't wholly read, and he glances away unnerved. Maybe there's still time to play this all off as a joke and go back to how they were before—

"Kakashi."

Right. He has Gai’s trust. It's an undeniable truth at this point. He just needs to regroup. One foot is in the door now. He should just go and do it. There's no going back now.

He takes a deep breath and, with the hand not currently in Gai's, reaches forward. His fingers gently graze the side of Gai's neck before coming to a rest, splayed, over the nape. The digits half bury in Gai's silky, soft hair until he meets Gai's eyes again. Then, those fingers exert light pressure into Gai’s scalp as Kakashi guides the other’s head in the position he wants.

Color blossoms across Gai's cheekbones once more along with an incredulously raised eyebrow. They both know this is completely unnecessary for a genjutsu. Kakashi feels a matching heat bloom on his face. Why did he touch Gai like that? How many more times is he going to embarrass himself today? Okay. Okay. Focus.

“A-alright. Here we go.” Kakashi locks onto Gai’s gaze and a blink later, they’re in their jounin vestments. But the ones from their young adulthood, the ones with the bulky scroll pockets. This past design was impractical, wasn’t it? He barely used the specialized pockets.

Kakashi pulls back and shamelessly runs his fingers out through Gai’s hair before crossing his arms across his own chest. Kakashi lets his eyes wander on Gai — the twenty-seven-year-old —’s chest. Oh. Kakashi guesses his memory is serving him correctly; they’re flatter.

Gai blinks, clearly surprised. His eyes search Kakashi's features and he moves back slightly to get a better look at him before he notices the difference in himself.

"Yo," Kakashi lazily drawls out, taking a moment to admire his handiwork as well. Gai at twenty-seven is a subtle change from the Gai Kakashi knows now. Gai, age twenty-seven, has his ridiculous posture displayed in full, some remnants of childhood fat padding his cheeks, and a confident but friendly gleam in his stare. Black, loosely cut hair frames his cheekbones in a loving caress, barely brushing over the top of them, and Kakashi hopes Gai's own observations of the genjutsu don't reveal how much Kakashi has quietly studied him to recreate the essence of Maito Gai.

“I look… like me! Wow!” Gai remarks, craning his neck to study the rest of his body. His voice sounds so honestly surprised that Kakashi feels childishly defensive and reverts to old habits. Instinctively he slips out one of his trademarked _sarcastically-miffed-not-really-but-really_ comments.

“Maa, why are you surprised? Of course, you’d appear like _you_ , who else would I make you out to be in my head?” Kakashi rolls his eyes, or in this case, one eye. The blocked vision on his left side is something he’s going to have to get used to again. Figures this is after Kakashi has finally gotten _unused_ to being Obito’s inadvertent lifeline.

Gai squints, lip jutted out in a pout. "I meant to say, ‘I look like me from five years ago.’ Rival."

“Yeah, you look like you’re ready to inspire a bunch of greenhorns straight out of the Academy,” Kakashi teases. Gai laughs and gives him a thumbs-up.

“You too!”

Kakashi snorts. Yeah, right. He’ll be known as a teacher who passed only one team for the remainder of his life and they both know that. He leans back on his hands and the bed squeaks.

Kakashi muses aloud, “At this time, what was the score? Fifty to fifty-one, my lead?”

"Hmm? I can't seem to recall…" Gai says, avoiding Kakashi's eyes to pick at a loose thread on the bed. Kakashi softly chuckles, feeling a sudden surge of affection. Gai never really liked losing. It was, and is, cute.

He’s lucky Gai has never made teaching a challenge between them. There were the unspoken comparisons that were made, of course, their natures and egos thrilled in competition, but Gai never bound it into words. Gai never wanted his students to be collateral in his everlasting duel with Kakashi and held back even when Kakashi once gloated his students would defeat Gai’s in the chunin exams.

Truthfully, Kakashi knows if teaching was a challenge, that would be a challenge Gai always would win, no matter the “results” from the kids. It would be a point to their score that Kakashi would never surpass. Not in the way it really counted.

Though he is aware Naruto, Sakura, and (perhaps) Sasuke see him with admiration as their mentor, he can pick at the nostalgic strings and unravel the knitted cozy holding the shards of a broken pot together. He hadn't been there for them as he should have been. He failed them in many numerous and painful ways. In this regard, Kakashi knows he’d never measure up to Gai's example.

“You were always such a good teacher, _Gai-sensei_ ,” Kakashi intones the moniker with chirpy sweetness, emulating Gai’s student on purpose but quickly sobers up, “Seriously though, I mean it. And to tell the truth, there are so many things you’re better than me at, especially when it comes to our students, but you still think we’re equals in every sense, huh.”

“But we are, Kakashi! There are plenty of things you're better at than me and that's okay! Rivalry means we push each other forward!” exclaims Gai, jumping up from his seated position to avenge Kakashi’s self-inflicted wound and nearly trips — if it isn’t for Kakashi grabbing his waist and holding him in place. Gai leans forward catching himself on Kakashi's shoulders for support.

“You okay, Gai?” Kakashi asks while looking up. A mistake. His face heats up at the sudden proximity of Gai's face to his own but he doesn't let go.

“Y-yeah! Just need to get used to being that tall again,” Gai laughs and gently retracts his hands from Kakashi's shoulder after righting himself. Kakashi promptly shoves his hand into a pocket, as Gai shifts into his trademark pose. “You did what you could to support your students, Kakashi. I do not think you could have done anything mo—”

“I never went after Sasuke, Gai.” Kakashi listlessly smiles behind his mask. _It would have been easy for me to do too,_ he adds on silently. Gai will comprehend the unsaid words hanging in the air. And as suspected, Gai deflates immediately and shifts uncomfortably on his feet, subconsciously favoring his left.

"By then, I had stopped thinking of them as just my soldiers but still… What was the loss of one more genin in the grand scheme of things after losing so much in the invasion?" Gai’s reaction is in phases like a miserable moon. An unpleasant wince worries his bottom lip before both corners of Gai’s mouth are downturned and chin indented with the strain of keeping quiet. He emulates the sorrow Kakashi should show on his face, regardless of if Kakashi could with his mask on.

"But for you… you value your student's life more than even your own." Kakashi meant for it to come out as complimentary but it rings bitterly to his ears. An old wound, which he thought had long ago healed and scarred over, stings and aches again. Kakashi grimaces. This is a phantom pain dredging old resentment that would be better off forgotten.

But that would defeat the point of all of this, wouldn't it? Gai needs to know about this part of his Eternal Rival as well before he misplaces any more undeserving love onto Kakashi. The calcified remains weighing heavily in the pit of Kakashi’s stomach and heart need to be brought up and put to rest.

"You really would have gone through with it, wouldn't you. If Lee's surgery had failed." It's not a question. They both are painfully aware of the answer.

"I know you're impulsive, but did you bother to think about anyone else when you made that pact? What about the other kids? Your friends?" Kakashi voices, climbing out of the silence.

'What about _me_?' dies on his tongue but he doesn't have to say it out loud. They both can read the messy, jagged writing on the wall. 'If you had died back then, it would have killed me too.' Gai winces and glances away, guilt excruciatingly palpable in the sudden sag of his shoulders.

"I hated him because of that, y'know? For a long time." Kakashi says quietly. He cringes inwardly. Putting a physical voice to his thoughts makes Kakashi realize how raw this nerve hits.

Gai's head snaps back to face Kakashi and his eyes widen before quickly going icy cold. He begins to open his mouth but Kakashi cuts him off.

"You promised to hear me out and let me finish." He reminds his friend. Those dark irises narrow; Gai’s gaze sparks with barely contained anger.

"I know the things I'm saying are ugly, believe me, but you need to hear it," he insists, suddenly exhausted at knowing how much more there is. "I don't— I'm not _trying_ to pick a fight. I just want to… I want you to understand the reasons for the choices I've made in the past."

Gai’s eyebrows twitch and a series of emotions pass by too quickly in his eyes for Kakashi to analyze before Gai sets his jaw hard and nods sharply once. For a second time, Kakashi misses the Sharingan. Kakashi turns his face away from Gai's and scratches at the back of his neck, the hair there is coarse and scratchy unlike Gai's. He sighs once more and tries to recollect his thoughts.

“Back then it seemed like, all of a sudden, the moment you got this kid, you stopped following your own dream. The goal changed from wanting to prove yourself as the greatest taijutsu master in Konoha to making Lee that. I couldn't understand it. All the years I saw you train that body of yours, so people would acknowledge and finally agree you were worthwhile, you wanted to throw that away for some snot-nosed kid.”

Kakashi takes a chance to gauge Gai's reaction to his admission. Gai’s wearing a different but still familiar mask now: his serious, reticent gaze pinpricks Kakashi from his spot in the bedroom. It’s a rare mask, one where he understands the gravity of the situation and wants to take charge but will give the benefit of leadership to someone else — someone who may or may not be worth the responsibility — due to honor. If anyone thinks Gai is an oblivious Youth-obsessed fool, they’re wrong. There is no one wiser who is more _on it_ than Maito Gai. His arms are crossed, and the toned muscles of his arms are tight with tension, but at least Gai keeps his promise and holds his tongue.

Kakashi really feels like he's in the sandals of his twenty-seven-year-old self now. A freshly minted instructor wanting to be as much of a "great teacher" as the Gai back then had prophesied he'd be. It was why Kakashi taught Sasuke the Chidori, based on the incorrect hunch that Gai was trying a new angle on their rivalry by passing on his knowledge to his student, to Lee, as someone had done for Gai.

Kakashi's breath leaves his nose in a short sniff.

"But… it's because Lee reminded you of Dai, isn't it? You were his most ardent supporter, after all." Kakashi glimpses the other man's flinch. "It's alright, Gai. It's not a bad comparison. I was Dai's second-most vocal fan, I'll have you know."

Kakashi sits back down on the side of the bed and rests his arms on his legs while he hunches forward. Gai doesn’t move to join him on the bed; Kakashi has expected it.

He points out, "You wanted to prove a hot-blooded loser could succeed as a shinobi if someone just gave him the right chance. The similarities were there… but it became more than just those similarities. I know you think of Lee as your kid. You think of all of your students as your kids."

Gai doesn't attempt to give a verbal response this time either, but he tilts his chin up as if to say, _‘And? What about it? That's no secret.’_

Kakashi smirks and shakes his head. Gai's giving him the silent treatment now. It seems that Gai has made a new self-rule for himself, he isn’t speaking at all. Perhaps he’s barring from voicing his opinions until later. Until Kakashi “finishes”, as part of Kakashi’s favor. It’s a little painful to be devoid of Gai’s voice, however, Kakashi will go on. They have a lot to get through, so maybe this is for the best.

“Whenever we were fighting for our lives, the ones you thought we should prioritize were always them. When you made your decision to open all the Gates, it was for them. Your stupid declaration was for Naruto, for Lee, for their generation. You knew you were going to die for them. Like your father, you wanted to make a pathway for the new leaves of Konoha. You wanna say, _‘what’s so wrong with that,’_ right…?”

The next words rest like a notched arrow on a bowstring. He lets it fly, informing Gai the core of this deep, rotten wound.

“Martyrdom doesn't suit you.”

Kakashi drops his head, gets more air into his lungs with a thin sigh. He should stop. This is an argument neither will yield on, will butt heads, and trade fists if Kakashi keeps going. Besides, he doesn’t mean it, or rather, he doesn’t anymore. Having lost the majority of bitterness with age and experience after getting to know Gai’s brats, Kakashi would probably die for them too if push came to shove.

“Sorry,” a surprising apology lines his lips and both men suck in an astonished inhale, “this isn’t what I wanted — this isn’t how I wanted this conversation to go... ” He twiddles his thumbs and ignores how uncomfortably moist his gloves are. “I was hurt. By what you did. It felt like…”

Kakashi grits his teeth and rips off the bandaid for Gai to see the vulnerable part underneath, admitting, “It felt like I had been replaced. Like the spot in your heart that was for me got smaller to make room for someone else, and then someone else, and so on. Maybe I’m just bad at sharing, heh. I pushed you away for so many years but I was afraid of losing you. Pathetic, huh?”

Even though it’s scary and his stomach is lurching too realistically in his clever, far too convincing genjutsu, Kakashi raises his head and meets Gai’s eye line once more. Kakashi blinks with his one eye, unbelieving what he’s seeing. Gai's face is crumpled upwards with a softer, pained countenance in his deep brown eyes. It's gone the moment he realizes Kakashi is watching him, but there is a crack in the mask. Was it accidental or on purpose? Gulping, Kakashi pats the empty side next to him on the bed.

It’s an offer. A weathered olive branch.

It’s one that Gai takes gracefully as he wordlessly moves forward and a dip on the bed later, they’re side-by-side once more. Neither of them will face the other but Kakashi’s soothed by the return of Gai's warmth. He smirks, wondering if it’s the illusion again or his hypnotized heart.

“It took me a while to work out that jealousy, and it was jealousy, plain and simple… When I finally figured it out, I realized you’ve done that for me too — you make these impulsive, self-sacrificing decisions just because you… you cared so much about your precious people." He scratches at his single exposed cheek, shy after categorizing himself as one of Gai's precious people.

"To be completely honest, I don't know if I would have been ever able to figure this all out if it hadn't been for you. For a long time I tried to close myself off from my feelings and I don't know who I'd be today if it weren't for you."

Kakashi quickly reaches for Gai’s hand, to force Gai to react and gape in alarm. "Sorry. I really regret that I never really thanked you for that. Not properly."

Kakashi blinks when their eyes meet and in the flicker of his vision, the reflected figure in Gai’s eyes changes. Kakashi tilts his head, his ceramic dog mask shining softly underneath the electric light.

Gai snaps his hand back as if scalded, and Kakashi lets it go easy.

Twenty-year-old Gai is different. He is Passion incarnate all the same, but this younger age forces Kakashi to compare Gai’s rounder visage. The smile lines around his eyes and lips Kakashi’s known in Gai's later years aren’t there yet. His hair at this time is cut looser around his forehead, slightly covering his full, thick eyebrows. However, where there should be joyful and reckless abandon and the fiery determination of youth, shock and fear are lurking in those dark brown irises.

“You never did like my mask,” Kakashi lightly jokes and pulls it off. He tosses it aside and the ANBU mask lands on the bed and bounces once. “Even when you were trying desperately to get your own.”

Gai's eyebrows turn downwards, his eyes narrow, and his lips pout. Gai remembers, then.

"Knowing that you went and begged the Hokage for my sake was a shock when I found out. I heard through the grapevine that you actually got down on your knees before the Sandaime kicked you out. God, Gai… and this was separate from you asking Shimura Danzo to join ROOT? Can't help but wonder how that went but, considering you don’t have a seal tattooed on your tongue, it probably didn't go how you wanted, right?” Kakashi chuckles and Gai’s face eases back into neutral.

He leans back on the bed with both palms, and Gai holds his spine perfectly in form. Kakashi conceals an amused snort. It’s strange how, to a passerby, Gai appears to be such a stickler for rules (his proclaimed self-rules not helping) when Kakashi knows he was Konoha’s number one bootlicker. Kakashi’s outwardly laissez-faire personality disguised his desperation to have some sort of purpose, even if it was as nothing but a faceless weapon.

Kakashi understands in hindsight how absurd it must have been from the outside, watching him drowning in ANBU’s darkness and yet unwilling to ask for a lifeline.

Gai wanted nothing but for his friend to think for himself, and not just be a tool for the village. But Kakashi at age twenty wasn’t Kakashi at age thirty-two. He knows he was terrible. Thankfully, he’s changed now. Or so he hopes.

“You had the gall to get Kurenai and Asuma involved, even after those two gave up on me — don’t defend them, Gai," he scolds when he sees Gai's mouth twitch. "They had given up on me. They all did. They thought I belonged there. I bet you probably had fights with them defending me. You're always so quick to jump in to defend your friends, even me from back then. As if I was someone worth defending…” Kakashi’s visible eye closes in a deprecating smile.

And reopens, dull and flat.

“...I was purposely cruel to you in that joint mission. I wanted to punish you for trying to join ANBU.” Kakashi's voice floats loftily to the ceiling. The words are like cigarette smoke which used to buoy up from their dead friend Asuma’s mouth. Thin, airy, and offensive.

Gai stiffens. His hands grip the spandex on his knees.

“Did you understand why I did that back then? I don’t know if you made excuses for me or not, but here’s the truth: I wanted you to see what kind of choices you’d be forced to make if you blindly followed me into the darkness. Where you didn’t belong.” Kakashi draws a leg up into his chest and rests one arm on it. From the outside, they could appear as though they’re talking about the weather or something else inane and featherbrained.

“Now you’re thinking, _‘well, you didn’t understand at the time it was the wrong course of action…’_ Wrong. I knew back then. But I wanted you to _witness_ it. That’s the ugly, disgusting part of me, Gai. I knew that, although my burden was too great, you’d still try to shoulder it with me. Out of misplaced loyalty for your _'Eternal Rival.'_ It’s why I dropped all that weight on you suddenly. I’m egotistical. And paranoid. The entire ‘no one else can understand me’ bit... “

Now that the scrutiny is on himself, Kakashi lets himself go in the rant. If he had the opportunity, he knows twenty-year-old Kakashi would have preferred to be killed in combat than to ever have his life view challenged. In the mind of that younger version of himself, the best he could aspire to was his name engraved on the Memorial Stone.

"That day, after we got back to the village, I'm glad at least I was able to apologize to you. My apology was shit though. I’m sorry." He thinks back to that moment when Gai found him at the Memorial Stone and cringes inwardly. He spent the better half of an hour trying to come up with the right words to ask for forgiveness only to have Gai come and try to apologize to _him._

The sheets rustle and the bed creaks. Kakashi’s hand is enveloped by two sets of warm fingers. Gai’s. A quirk tickles the corner of his masked mouth, and he knows Gai’s about to say something, so he glances over, chin resting on his right shoulder.

Gai is absolutely displeased, and the frown he sports should be scary if isn’t for the naked succor in the brown-eyed stare. He’s angry on Kakashi’s behalf. That’s crystal clear.

“You got something to say?” he asks his friend, curling a finger in a mock invite for Gai to break whatever self-rule he’s made. Gai pouts almost comically and Kakashi cannot contain his laugh this time around as Gai huffs indignantly, accompanying Kakashi’s low chuckles.

“You always know the right thing to do to pull me out of my bullshit. I'm not sure if I'd still be around if you hadn't kept trying to draw me out of the shadows. You kept me from becoming another masked figure within the Hokage’s arsenal. It was your influence that allowed me to look back toward the light."

He sighs, guiltily enjoying his hand in Gai’s. “I don’t know why you tried, even after everything I did to you. If I was in your position, I don’t think I would have stuck around.”

Gai cocks his head as if asking, _‘What position would that be, Rival?’_ It seems to Kakashi like it’s an unsaid challenge. So Kakashi will show him.

With Gai’s hands engaged in the handhold of Kakashi’s right hand, Kakashi clutches at the entangled grip with his free left one, using the momentum and leverage to twist their bodies to the bulk of the bed. Gai peers up at him with a slight surprise, and Kakashi blinks — but fends off opening his eyes too quickly. He’s scared of the next Gai he’s about to see. He does it though and peeks down. And gulps.

Sixteen-year-old Gai blushes underneath Kakashi and averts his gaze, his eyes half-lidded by thick lashes since he’s staring at Kakashi’s metal ANBU vambrace shining by the side of his black hair. He must be embarrassed by the sudden intimacy.

Kakashi recalls that Gai had had the same reaction the first time they were in this position. He still doesn't really understand why Gai had reacted that way since there was and is nothing special about the sixteen-year-old Kakashi looming over him then and now.

He remembers what he looked like at that age from the few times he’d check in the mirror. Messy hair, tired eyes, gangly limbs filling into a wiry body that was designed to kill. Half of his face is hidden under a mask that covers a nasty, sardonic mouth. He wasn't exactly a heartthrob. He suspects the reason so many people wanted to see his face was that the mask added to the mystery.

Gai, though? Even at this age, he is already striking, hinting at the ruggedly handsome face he'll eventually grow into. Unimaginably soft and shiny black hair splays around Gai’s head on the bed, in dark tufts like petals with his friend’s face in the center. His pink-dusted cheeks are plumper too, with the slightest dip from Gai’s iconic bone structure. And there’s his lips, embarrassment making those full lips a squiggly line. His neck is wrapped like a gift, adorned with a slender red scarf that mimics a ribbon. This is also when Gai used to go sleeveless and wrap his arms and hands with bandages.

His mind wanders and lingers with the heat on the idea of the current chiseled, _filled-out_ , and well-defined thirty-two-year-old Gai wearing something similar. Kakashi tilts his head, imagining it, and swallows when Gai finally looks up at him with those impossibly long lashes.

It was only until recently that Kakashi can admit to himself that he finds Gai's features beautiful. When he was younger, more prideful and unwilling to accept his own feelings, he would make fun of Gai’s eyelashes in his head. He’d craft barbs he’d never tell Gai out loud in case they didn’t sound as measured and cool as his thoughts hyped them up to be. (Maybe, even then, he understood why he was so fixated on them.)

_Your lashes are way longer than any girl our age, y'know. I heard a lot of them are jealous, isn’t that funny? Your eyes are way too expressive. You show too much of what you're feeling and, no matter how hard you meditate with that stupid turtle in the forest, I doubt you’ll ever be a "steely" ninja. Your eyes... I tell myself I’m thinking about ways to make fun of them, but in actuality, I’m just thinking about them in general, aren’t I?_

Kakashi hates how everything clicked and didn’t at this age. Half of his face hides under a mask which also covers a shameful and lecherous smirk. This age is when he discovered Icha Icha if the timeline’s correct.

“Why don’t you push me off as you did then?” Kakashi asks, then immediately cringes. Ugh. Right. This is how he sounded like. He grinds his teeth. Kakashi hates how his voice sounded at age sixteen. Childish. Awkward. He was and still _is_ that, in tone and more. In reply, Gai raises a blocky eyebrow.

Oh. Oh, shit. Does Gai not recall…? It’s both a relief and, oddly, stokes a fire for Kakashi to remind his friend.

Bearing a pained grin behind his mask, Kakashi slides his gloved fingers into Gai’s hair and tucks the black locks behind Gai’s ear. Instantly the skin there goes red. Putting all of his weight to his left palm, Kakashi smirks down at his crush despite knowing anyone would react similarly. He leans in, his nose catches the light scent of jasmine, and — Gai goes rigid. It’s fine though because he doesn't get close enough to connect.

Kakashi would never do that to Gai again.

“Do you remember now?” He asks coolly, a few centimeters away from Gai’s lips. They can feel each other’s breath. Kakashi’s, slow. Gai’s, a startled little gasp.

Gai’s hand squarely meets Kakashi’s ANBU armor right in the center of his chest and gently pushes. Kakashi relents, shifting from his hands and knees and putting weight on the back of his thighs and feet. When seated upright, he helps Gai get up and doesn’t chase when the other shinobi scoots away on the bed, moving closer to the wall. His crush is still blushing, and stupidly hormonal sixteen-year-old Kakashi would have been cataloging that image for later.

Thirty-two-year-old Kakashi just feels bad, guilty, and not turned on at all.

“It was the only time we kissed,” Kakashi jogs both of their memories. Kakashi’s in this case is full-on sprinting. This is one of the biggest regrets of his life, after all. He replays the scene over and over again. The crests and the troughs of this labile wavelength never fail to leave him conscience-stricken.

“We never talked about it, too. Maybe you were trying to save face — but that’s not it. I knew you were trying to save _mine_.” Kakashi runs a hand through his shaggy, rough hair. Jeez, he should consider brushing his hair more than just occasionally styling it with water and a free hand.

“Maybe you thought it was a mistake I made on my part. God knows I wasn’t… I wasn’t nice about it when you rejected me.” Kakashi is surprised at his ability to keep the emotion out of his voice when his chest is burning up from the inside due to shame.

Gai uneasily slides his legs into a cross-legged sit however he doesn't appear sorry about what happened and Kakashi is glad for it. Gai shouldn't be sorry at all. This is all Kakashi’s fault.

"You know how ANBU affected me," Kakashi starts, hushed. Gai nods. Kakashi was both manic and catatonic. By the time his sixteenth birthday rolled in, Kakashi was already sin-smeared and on his way in losing himself.

"As you know, I was one of the youngest people to be placed into ANBU. And since everyone around me was so much older, I thought I had become _mature_ by proxy. I guess I felt proud of that, all those years ago, because I wanted nothing more than to grow up, but I see it for what it is now: the childish idealization of maturity."

How foolish he had been. Sixteen-year-old Kakashi was obsessed with being an adult. _Being an adult means you had your shit together_ , he crossly remembers his younger self thinking. He is an adult now and doesn’t know jack shit. He is still scared of what the enemy is capable of, and what he is capable of to survive and win. This fear of helplessness hasn’t abated with age nor experience.

“The senior members thought I was the funniest thing. This little kid tagging alongside them for executions, playing adult.” Kakashi recalls, and next grits his teeth through recollections of dimly-lit crowded pubs. His mind sifts through images stained by lipstick, and strong perfumes masking the scent of sex.

“One time, I curiously followed the others to a brothel. I didn’t know what it _really_ meant when one of them asked if I would take one of the server girls to bed. I said there wouldn’t be enough room for both of us to sleep. They laughed in my face and said, _‘Ah, there’s the little boy underneath a man’s getup.’_ It made me so angry to have my cover blown. All I knew was I never wanted to be seen as a child again.”

Kakashi wrings his hands in the air as if choking an invisible neck. He lets go when he realizes what he’s doing, when Gai’s hand juts into his line of sight, a subtle check to see if Kakashi is fine, probably. What’s interesting is Gai has somehow crept closer. Enamored by the action but nervous to face Gai head-on, Kakashi drinks in the sight of a bandaged hand falling back to the bedsheets before he goes on.

“Once I figured out what the other ANBU were referring to, I was scandalized — who would think bedding a complete stranger was a good idea? What if they were an enemy? Weren’t my seniors supposed to be elite ninjas? Why expose yourself like that just to get off?” He huffs, crosses his arms, and rolls his eyes — a spitting image of how he carried his teenage self. Gai slowly rocks his head forward, hearing Kakashi out. Crap. Kakashi’s face flames when it dawns that he has to get to the next bit, but he wants to come clean. Gai deserves to know.

“But… after those jokes at my expense, came the awful and persistent, uh, inquisitiveness. I won’t lie and say I wasn't thinking about sex at the time. I was interested in it, just… not with someone I didn't even know.”

Kakashi knows he’s been attracted to Gai for a while, especially since coming across the first of a series of enlightening novels at the bookshop. _Icha Icha Paradise_ probably colored (and continues to color) a lot of the ways he saw his interest in the other shinobi. The plot synopsis of his favorite novel is simple: the two main characters, new to love, begin dating, and they develop their relationship to a _grown-up_ love. From Kakashi’s point of view, despite the simple summary, the novel is a masterpiece of sensuous romance and descriptive bosoms.

For sixteen-year-old Kakashi, it was where he got his sexual education and became one of the sources for his spank bank. The other sources… Kakashi rubs harder at the back of his head as a distracting counterpoint to the heat flooding his covered face as he pointedly doesn’t look at Gai.

“Armed with those idiotic convictions, I thought that if I wanted to be an adult, I had to cross that… threshold with someone.” Kakashi confesses and Gai’s face turns a deeper shade of crimson. It’s apparent Gai has caught on, and everything just tenses up in the awkwardness. God, he really feels like a teenager again.

Kakashi omits that he didn’t want to do it with anyone else. That’s a given, right? Gai would get that. He runs his hand over the visible side of his face when the memory of that day comes back.

It was at Gai’s place. Kakashi was in Gai's bed, partly because Gai had put him there and partly because Kakashi had been too dead tired to argue. It was the morning after an ANBU mission, and chakra exhaustion had kept him bedridden, preventing Kakashi from slipping away in the dawn light as he often did.

Gai was on the edge of the bed, wrapping his bandages around a lean bicep, and Kakashi thought it was shitty of him that he had made his friend sleep on the floor of the spartan apartment. Who knew, maybe Gai had to use a barbell for a pillow.

It was a day off for both of them, but here was Gai, getting ready for _something,_ as always _._ His shoulder blades made fine impressions under the stretch of his green jumpsuit while he diligently worked on his arm. He didn't have his flak jacket on yet, so Kakashi followed the line of Gai's spine down to the red belted _hitai-ate_ and then lower to—

"Rival, are you awake?" Gai asked, not looking back. Kakashi immediately snapped his eyes shut, flustered that he was caught staring at Gai's backside. To his surprise, Kakashi felt movement, and the threadbare bed complained about their combined weight. He closed his eyes tighter but his imagination went wild, already picturing Gai’s face peering in, the distance between them scant and so easily _attainable._

“I know you’re awake.”

In the darkness of Kakashi’s closed eyes, Gai moved closer and closer, and the mattress sloped further and further into warmth.

“What do you need? I can do it for you — hey. Hey, c’mon, don’t ignore me, Kakashi.”

How could Kakashi respond when Gai’s bandaged hand tickled through the mop of silver hair covering his face? The first thought that popped up, affected by his heated predicament, was crass. _Stay in bed with me and don’t go_.

It was chased off by his second thought, cutting and cruel, _that’s kind of messed up considering how many times you left Gai without warning._ But then, as if helping in their own way to get Kakashi out of the trap of his thoughts, Gai’s fingers flicked away Kakashi's thick bangs which sprang back into place. That touch electrified him, and next, close to his ear, Kakashi heard Gai giggle.

And that was the proverbial match in the powder barrel.

His hand clawed forward, tangling itself in the red scarf around Gai’s neck. Kakashi momentarily felt Gai’s Adam's apple bob against the back of his fingers, and another pale hand clamped down on Gai’s bare shoulder. He pivoted, using the full brunt of his weight to rotate their positions so he was straddling Gai in the center of the single bed.

Gai blinked up at him, flummoxed. A flush rose to his cheeks. Kakashi observed how those eyebrows jumped for a second and then descended back as Gai quickly glanced away.

“So you’re awake. Okay, what do you want to eat, I’ll make breakfast,” Gai said nonchalantly, tilting his head towards the kitchen.

That made Kakashi strangely irritated. Did Gai not notice how hard Kakashi’s heart was beating, how sweat was rapidly gathering at the base of his temples? Did he just not see Kakashi in the same way? If he didn’t — how could Kakashi change that?

The longer he held this position, the quicker things were becoming awkward, and the faster Kakashi was losing his chance — and yet Kakashi had no clue what to do next. What did adults do when they were in his situation? How could Kakashi prove to Gai that he was no child, that he was a man, and that he could provide — digging through his hodgepodge of mental memos, all Kakashi could eke out was a line the main protagonist from _Paradise_ had said to court his lover.

“I want the sweetest fruit,” he echoed the quote. Somehow it didn’t sound as sexy as Kakashi had thought. Shit.

Gai’s face pondered in real-time. “What? What’s the _‘sweetest fruit?’_ Do I have to special order stuff like that? Hmm, I mean, if it's something I could get it from the marketplace I'll go get it but—”

“N-no, Gai, goddamnit, That's not what I—” Kakashi muttered and his face was getting hotter. He needed to get this out now, he was so close for Gai to not _get it_. “Your lips. I'm talking about your lips.”

“Huh? What about them? Is there something on—”

Not wanting to back out since they were on the precipice already, Kakashi pulled down his mask and captured Gai’s lips with his own. The soft warmth of Gai’s mouth, the breath that blew across Kakashi’s lips, the plush cheek Kakashi cradled, all of it was a second’s worth of gracious and satisfying heat. It was a smolder that instantly burned into pain by a shove hitting Kakashi’s collarbone and knocking him backward.

Kakashi was stunned silent by the facial expressions Gai couldn’t hide in time. A flash of surprise creased the boy’s full eyebrows, indignation sprang dewy moisture at the inner corners of those eyes, and then it was all wiped away by a poorly conceived smile. Gai fumbled his jovial persona, so taken aback that he didn’t know his metaphorical mask was on lopsided. He must have been so panicked he was unaware Kakashi had noticed. He jumped back towards the far wall and almost tripped on some free weights which were on the floor.

“Hah! Funny, funny! Rival! I-I don't really understand t-the punchline but what a mean prank you pulled! I should get you back for this, get ready for when _I_ come up with something, too!” Gai gestured at his slim chest with his thumb. Kakashi grumbled in the back of his throat. What was that reaction? Was this some asinine way of playing off their kiss? Did Gai need to be handheld to understand what Kakashi intended? And why was that something Kakashi was willing to do?

“It’s not a joke, Gai. Come over here. If you don't know how I’ll teach you. We both have time to learn what we like together.” Kakashi quoted another line, aiming his tone to come off as seductive but his voice cracked. Shit. God, he hated being sixteen.

Gai, rebellious all of a sudden, shook his head no. Just that one action doused the warmth which had been fostering inside Kakashi, and Gai’s reply only chilled him further. “You, you’re just saying things you don’t mean, and you’re tired and injured from your mission. You should get some more sleep, Kakashi, I'm worried about—”

“About who? Not me, surely. If there's someone you should be worried about it's yourself. You call yourself a jounin but you're scared of becoming an adult.” Kakashi bitterly accused.

“Kakashi, what are you talking about? We're _both_ still kids!” Gai exclaimed, throwing his arms out.

Kakashi seethed from his place on the bed. How could Gai be so content being a _child?_

“I _knew_ it. You act all tough but you're just a stupid little kid who's afraid of growing up.”

He should have regretted those words right as he said them, but they weren’t the worst. Those were yet to come.

“I’m not afraid.” Gai stood, proudly defiant. “I'm not going to rush into something like this just to pretend I'm _'grown up.'_ I don't want you to try anything like this again. I… I think I want you to leave.”

He literally and figuratively put his foot down and somehow it felt like he was stomping right onto Kakashi’s chest. To make his stance even clearer, Gai wiped across his lips with his arm and directed an index finger to the door.

Kakashi didn’t know his ribs could feel like they broke without being hit. Air fizzled out of his heaving lungs. He flung himself out of Gai’s bed, not caring whether he made a mess of the sheets he haphazardly discarded.

“Whatever. That’s fine, Gai. You're not worth it. I don’t want to _mess around_ with a _kid_ , anyway. Especially one that's clinging to childhood so desperately. Don't worry, I get it now. All those flowery words you love are just an excuse to avoid any _real_ growth.” Kakashi rebutted, in an attempt to hurt Gai the way he was. But his voice sounded so bratty to his own ears that it surely would be laughed off by the other shinobi.

However, in a terrible twist of fate, it worked.

Something flashed in Gai’s eyes that Kakashi had never seen and would never see again. There was a disgustingly slimy silence sliding down in the sticky, uncomfortable atmosphere. Time seemed to slow before Kakashi saw Gai’s shoulders rise with an awful, shuddery breath.

There were tears: fragile, watery pearls clinging onto Gai’s lower lashes, and darkening the borders around his eyes. It pulled at some sort of tangled mess inside of Kakashi. He was clueless then, as he had been too occupied in being a dumbass, however, the adult Kakashi now knows what he felt then was a strange mix of wanting to console Gai and wanting to see more of that reaction, but differently. A different situation.

Outside of his reverie, a gripping desire swirls within Kakashi when he catches up to the implications of that conclusion. But he can’t focus on that now. Not when the ensuing memory crashes into him head-first, cementing the regret into his consciousness. Kakashi closes his eyes and remembers. He remembers what Gai said.

“...If you were _actually_ as mature as you think you are, you’d appreciate the Springtime of our Youth, Kakashi. I know my worth. Only the most childish kids are in a rush to feel _grown up_.” Gai snarled and pointed to the door once more.

Kakashi didn’t need to take another hint. He left enraged and avoided Gai for like a month. He spent that miserable month on mission-fueled benders, drowning himself in work. It was only after a truly bloody spectacle that his muscle memory brought him back to Gai’s apartment window, where he slumped into Gai’s shower and passed out. He recalled he roused from sleep when a huge and hefty towel flumped over his bare body.

Gai, who was blocking his eyes with his hand to give Kakashi some semblance of privacy, told him, “We’re having spicy curry tonight. If you don’t want it, you can leave, but that’s what I’m having for dinner today. If you want to join me, I have vegetables for you to chop.”

Kakashi ended up arms-deep in potatoes and peppers and had a terrible stomachache that night, but at least the following ache in his chest finally left.

And that was the only time he had ever kissed Maito Gai’s lips.

Kakashi, the thirty-two-year-old in the sixteen-year-old genjutsu, cradles his face into his hands as the memories fade away. His leg shakes. Oh my god, he was really that bad at that time, how did Gai put up with his bullshit? He wants to kick and scream. He does neither since it will be incredibly strange after this long moment of sitting in silence in the Hokage’s bed chambers. He’s so lucky Gai doesn’t have access to these private regrets.

“You really went on like nothing happened after we kissed,” Kakashi’s voice is muffled through the skin of his palms. “And I always wanted to apologize, sometimes even visiting you with the intention to apologize, but I didn’t know how to approach it. I don't understand why you just didn’t throw me out that night when you found me in your shower… but I’m grateful.”

Gai hasn’t moved from where he sits. He’s not so far away that Kakashi gets the hint that Gai wants out of the conversation, but not close enough that Kakashi can read the blank look which has come across his features. Pushing through the awkwardness since Gai has banned himself from speaking, Kakashi slides over just one hand’s width closer to Gai.

“That day has been on my mind ever since. There’s no good excuse for what I did, or how I acted. I’ve always regretted pushing that on you, assuming you’d agree to it because I was the one asking. It was selfish. I’m sorry, Gai.”

Gloved fingers border bandaged ones. Kakashi’s index finger touches the side of Gai’s pinky. There is the slightest stir, but Gai ultimately doesn’t withdraw. And this is all Kakashi is capable of doing, previous brazen hand holding a distant memory. His nerves are on fire by the tiny point of contact between him and his best friend, his rival, his crush, his one and only _interest._

“Just so you know, I never did get to cross that threshold.” Kakashi chuckles deprecatingly when Gai snaps his head to face him, his eyes widening at Kakashi in shock. "Is it that surprising? I've always been bad at interpersonal relationships. Couldn't exactly think of a situation where that’d happen again… Anyway." Kakashi tilts his head so their sights line up. He blinks.

They both shrink a couple of inches. _Welcome to fourteen,_ his mind sarcastically salutes. God. Fourteen. Fourteen is a year Kakashi can confidently claim changed his life.

Kakashi flexes his small, weak hand. And of course, Gai’s rounder and softer — and Kakashi supposes that’ll always be true of Gai, even if he grows up solid and tough, there will always be this circular feeling about him, enveloping and embracing, whole and renewed. A sense of _security—_

But a false one. It’s the reason why Kakashi took Gai for granted at this time. At many, many times.

“What are you looking at,” Kakashi teases, smirking behind his mask at fourteen-year-old Gai and his owlish stare. Gai’s about to reply until he doesn’t, big mouth parted and then snapped shut when he remembers the stipulations of his self-made promise. It’s funny seeing Gai’s thought process play out in front of him that Kakashi lets out the smallest peal of laughter.

Gai tilts his head and Kakashi sobers up. It must be an odd sight, seeing fourteen-year-old Kakashi express such joy.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? Hearing me laugh with this voice, this face.” Kakashi asks and Gai blushes, knowing that he’s been found out.

Kakashi closes his visible eye, and blood-imprinted images flash. A black eye reopens, and Kakashi lets his vision fill up with Gai's visage and only that beam of light, reminding himself he and Gai have weathered this torrent. Their childish forms are merely illusions. The reality is they are middle-aged men finally out of terror and at long last in peace.

“So much happened during this time. So much tragedy.”

Gai is stony-faced and nods once grimly. It shouldn't be a face someone of his appearance should make, but they were kids born and raised in wars. A wizened, experienced aspect juxtaposes the innocent face. Of course, Gai is familiar with this time.

Fourteen is when Rin died. When Minato-sensei died, along with his wife Kushina.

Kakashi continues, “You were there for me. When Rin was gone, you didn’t flinch when I told you I was the one who killed her. You just took me in your arms, even though I punched and kicked, you just kept on holding on until I finally stopped and accepted the fact that I need it.”

At a loss of what else to do Kakashi pores over his hands. The lightning-shaped scars from the _raikiri_ are only a faint ghost compared to how they would look on the thirty-two-year-old Kakashi but the jagged, pinkish lines still stand out against his skin. He glances over to Gai's hands, neatly and tightly bandaged at this time. Kakashi can already picture what’s underneath, knows the skin hidden beneath the wrappings is riddled with dozens of marks. Scars from injuries, from pushing limits, reminders of the hardships which have marred Gai. Kakashi smirks. It's a good representation of how Gai always hides how much he's hurting.

“...I’ve always been an awful, selfish little brat, even when I didn’t mean to, and especially to you, Gai. I accepted the comfort you offered me without ever extending it in the same way to you. I wasn't the only one who experienced a loss. You did too.”

They both know what Kakashi is referring to, and Gai sucks in a shallow breath. Fourteen is also when Dai died, after all.

“The worst of it is, instead of being there for you as we grew older, I just grew distant.” Kakashi finishes.

Unlike how Gai had been there for him when Rin and Minato-sensei passed away, Kakashi regrets how little he did in comparison to console Gai when the father sacrificed himself to save his son. Ever the consoler, Gai would argue if he was able to talk. He’d list how Kakashi was with him that night, cloistered in the corner of a bare bedroom where Gai shook and cried under a blanket because he didn’t want to see his Eternal Rival witness such a shameful display.

Kakashi surmises he shouldn't be too hard on himself; he was only fourteen at the time. And he had cared. He wanted to do _so well;_ he remembers improvised, uplifting lines, and sympathetic scenarios running through his mind like strategic ploys, but nothing felt like it was the perfect way to comfort Gai. Everything he had thought of had a sense of risk, nauseating anxiety he would ruin everything if he tried — and he _had to_ get it right on the first try, like how he did with all of his missions, like how Gai had grieved with him.

When Minato-sensei passed away, Gai had cried for Kakashi, his body warm, skin-to-skin in the tightest hug that made everything better. In contrast, all Kakashi could only do that night when Dai died was lean against a blob under the covers and say nothing as the most painful sobs echoed through the frail bones of both their bodies.

He believed he couldn't touch Gai without ruining him, so he didn't dare touch him at all.

He awoke the next morning, alone and wrapped up in the blanket Gai had been in, to the smell of food. He padded methodically in the rickety house, keeping his eyes away from the sparse furnishing and the photos of a dead man with his son, to the kitchen where he found Gai, puffy-eyed but smiling brightly and humming while cooking rice. Gai acted as if the night before had never happened.

At the time, Kakashi had been annoyed and confused when Gai had passed him a bowl of fluffy white rice with a bright orange egg cracked over it. He couldn't understand why Gai was so insistent on pretending like he was okay when no one expected him to get over the death of his father in a _day_.

Decades later, Kakashi could see it for what it was: one of the earliest times he had witnessed Gai put on his happy, cheerful mask. He hadn't fully bought his rival’s megawatt positivity then in the past, however, he had thought this mask was simply Gai acting tough. Fourteen-year-old Kakashi came up with the juvenile reasoning that he had failed to help his friend, and so Gai had to cheer himself up on his own.

Reflecting on this, the thirty-two-year-old Kakashi concludes Gai at the time probably didn’t want his Eternal Rival to have to worry about him on top of everything else going on in that tumultuous year.

Gai hiding things from Kakashi isn’t new; he still does it. Kakashi flickers his gaze to an orange-covered leg which will soon be wrapped up in white. His friend masks his pain behind dazzling smiles and impassioned speeches all so his _"precious"_ students and Kakashi can focus on themselves.

"Unlike me, you're selfless to a fault. And that's not a compliment, by the way," he chuckled bitterly. "Maybe this is hypocritical coming from me, however... I wish you didn't think you have to hide your real feelings from me. I know why you do it but just so you know, it's more painful realizing you were quietly suffering this whole time for my sake." He tries for a smile but it probably came out as a grimace. At least Gai can’t see it under his mask.

"I wish I had tried harder, instead of taking the out you handcrafted for me. This is another one of my biggest regrets. Maybe if I had been a better friend to you back then some things would have turned out differently…” Kakashi rolls his head around his neck to stretch out the fatigue of holding up a mind weighed down by remorse.

“Jeez, listen to me going on and on about the what-ifs. Guess I'm still an old man even if I look and sound like this." Kakashi motions to himself hoping to get Gai's attention.

And there they go. They've transitioned to twelve years old. In response, Kakashi momentarily smiles at seeing the eye-catching yellow-orange scarf and smelling a burst of sweet freesia.

The kid Gai pouts hearing the "old man" comment, eyebrows partially hidden under his crimson _hitai-ate._

Kakashi’s blue headband is lifted up, and the bright bloody red of the Sharingan maps Gai’s shifting expression.

“The scar looks fresh, right?” Kakashi questions and his friend dips his chin. This is right after Obito died. Rin’s medical ninjutsu could only do so much — half of Kakashi would forever be scarred from the events of that night. The illusioned skin is inflamed pink, and if genjutsu serves his memory correctly, with a blisteringly red slash running vertically down his eye to his cheek, just scant off his mouth.

Adult Kakashi can laugh off the disparaging talk back then around his newly acquired eye, but the grieving twelve-year-old took it hard. Whispers inculpating he wore his dead friend’s eye just to be a better ninja couldn’t _not_ sting when the grief was so fresh, after all. Kakashi hates how obsessed he was with how others perceived him. His aloofness during childhood was really a front; he couldn’t bear thinking about how he would be compared to his deceased father and sought prestige as protection.

He admits all of this verbally with both eyes closed. He cannot bear to show Gai more wounds, not when they’re superficial compared to his rival.

Gai, in comparison to Kakashi, would never reach enough prestige to shield himself from criticism. No matter if he was no longer the runt-of-the-litter shinobi, and had proved himself every day to be a formidable ninja, Kakashi recalls the awful names the kids would call Gai, to taunt, insult, and demean him. Obito had a go-to nickname for Gai as well. Beast Face. He would never call Gai by his name, just this moniker. And Gai? He turned it around, not letting Obito or anyone else define him and his image. He reclaimed the pain and made it his pride — Maito Gai, the Noble Green Beast of Konoha.

Kakashi confesses, “It’s funny. I’ve been stuck looking at the past, even when Obito gave me this eye to look toward the future.” In the genjutsu, his eye begins to throb all too realistically and he instinctively moves his hand up to clutch at his face. He feels Gai shift on the bed towards him, feels the heat of the other’s hand hovering somewhere above his shoulder but it doesn’t connect. Gai does not touch him.

“Heh, what did I say to you the first time you visited me in the hospital after I got this thing? 'Aren't you scared of me like everyone else? Doesn't it bother you?’" Kakashi slinks open his right eye and teases the boy in front of him, reminding Gai of the first moment he found out about the borrowed Sharingan.

“And how did you respond back then?" Kakashi clears his throat and adds a little rumble to his voice, mimicking Gai trying to mimic Dai. “ _‘Why would I be creeped out by the thoughtful gift your friend gave you? Now Obito can see the future with you, Kakashi!’_ Is that about right?”

Gai rolls his eyes and puffs out his cheeks. He's zeroing in on Kakashi's light teasing.

“Maa, don’t pout. Your face will get stuck like that… that’s probably why I’m going to get so many frown lines when I’m older, I mean, why I have them now. Damn. This genjutsu shit is getting confusing, huh?”

Gai sniffs a little laugh at that. It makes Kakashi’s face warm up with a strange mix of embarrassment and joy.

“In all seriousness though, you remember how angry I got when you told me that? It was because it was nearly verbatim what Obito had said before he 'died' and I couldn’t help but see the parallels… I thought to myself then, _ah, Gai’s going to end up dying for me too. I wonder what I will take from him? An eye? An arm? A leg?"_

His friend sharply outfaces him and Kakashi takes advantage of that to blink.

" _‘Body Part Collector Kakashi’_ doesn't have the same ring to it as _‘Friend Killer,’_ though." It feels a little peculiar hearing his five-year-old voice make that joke but he supposes it's not too dissimilar to things he actually said at that age.

Gai cringes, shoulders rising, and neck pulling down like an imitation of a turtle. Then fast as the wind, the other boy turns to glare at him. It's nostalgic seeing his friend make such a bratty face. Long, jaw-hugging black hair shakes, big fringe-lashed eyes flutter in surprise, and thick eyebrows knit together on the five-year-old face belonging to Maito Gai.

It's aching familiar yet different. This Gai, the thirty-two-year-old beneath the five-year-old facade, quickly schools his face into a mask of indifference. When Gai was a child, he didn’t have his mask in place and didn't think to hide what he was feeling. He was as open like a daisy and thought to be as common and unspecial by everyone who wasn’t a Maito. Except to Kakashi’s father, Sakumo. He had been able to see—no, he was able to appreciate Gai's hard work before anyone outside of Dai.

"My father was right, you know. About you," Kakashi says quietly.

A complicated mix of pain and pride washes over Kakashi. It brushes over him with thick painterly strokes with a deft and calculated hand. His mind replicates the impression of a memory. It’s of his father crouched down, white hair tickling Kakashi's face just like the whisper in Kakashi’s ear.

_Do not forget this boy’s retreating back, do not forget the name of someone who will one day become your greatest rival. Do not forget that one day, Maito Gai will astound and ascend Hatake Kakashi._

Even today thinking about his father fills Kakashi with an entangled knot of emotions. Love, betrayal, and sorrow amalgamate into an oppressing anchor in the pit of his stomach. He spent so much of his childhood hating his father, blaming him for abandoning a five-year-old seemingly without any second thought. If Sakumo had cared so much about his comrades’ lives during that mission, why couldn’t he do that for his own? And if not for himself, why not for his son?

This harsh, cutting criticism has whittled away and dulled over time, moreover when Kakashi had the terrifying grace to speak to his dead father at the in-betweens of life and death. However, there are still things he doesn't know if he'll ever thoroughly forgive. Closure doesn’t always translate to absolution. It’s the same with this conversation he’s having with Gai.

Can Gai forgive him for all of these transgressions?

"...It took a really long time for me to realize this but you were right about my father. You were the first person to call my father a hero when I couldn’t even fathom the idea that he hadn't made the wrong decision on that mission. I'm sorry I lashed out at you for trying to comfort me."

When Sakumo killed himself, Gai and Dai had stepped up when the rest of Konoha had turned a blind eye to Kakashi's plight. And despite his younger self’s hostile and disdainful behavior towards this kindness, Dai would still _accidentally_ come across the Hatake residence with extra curry, or Gai would show up to one of Kakashi’s reclusive fishing spots and make it a challenge to see who will catch the largest grouper, or the both of them would invite Kakashi to watch festival celebrations with them — knowing all the implications and hardships that would come from being associated with a Hatake at the time. It wasn't like the Maitos were unaccustomed to being ostracized by Konoha's residents, as well. Kakashi wishes he had appreciated their gestures more.

“I never thanked you for what you did for me. When news hit the Academy, the other kids kept their distance. Rin and Obito didn’t know the extent of the pain I was in when my father died… and opportunistic others used his death to try to finally get a win over me. I was so powerless, I allowed them to say awful things about my father after I gave you so much shit, saying you couldn't 'properly' defend Dai.”

Gai buries his chin into the poppy-red bandana around his neck. Kakashi shrugs with one thin arm. It’s true. He is a hypocrite when it comes down to it. Shameful how he had berated Gai in the alleyway, only to let Sakumo’s name be dragged through the mud for the years it took for Kakashi to wake up. At his darkest, he also agreed with those nasty remarks and rumors.

It seems, upon current deliberation, Kakashi was strong in name only. He wasn’t strong in the ways it matters to him presently.

“You were different. You actually got into fights protecting not only your dad’s but also _my father_ ’s honor too. I just thought you were a complete idiot when you’d get thrashed for defending a dead man, a weak man who failed to be a shinobi. I wanted nothing to do with anything my father said, including what he thought of you. It’s why I avoided your challenges for so long. I'm sorry.”

His friend lifts both of his small, already-scarred hands. Gai had started his intense physical training before he was five; Sakumo was the one to point out the boy’s scratched-up hands and feet during the first meeting outside of the Academy’s entrance. The other shinobi clenches both of these hands into two fists as if saying, ‘ _Of course, I would fight, Rival! You fight to protect who matters to you!’_

Kakashi’s heart, untethered and floating with affection, is brought back to earth by a grip on the green scarf hanging over his chest. Kakashi sighs and gets control again before he succumbs to some sentimental crap that ends up derailing his outpouring speech. He hasn’t asked Gai the final question yet.

He clears his throat and goes on, “But that’s why I’m thankful, Gai. That you never gave up. That you never gave up challenging me and talking to me even after my father died…”

As much as Kakashi doesn’t want to look back into his childhood due to the pain, there are also pleasurable and vivid memories of chili-burnt tongues, sparkling river streams, and the dazzle of blooming fireworks. Within these recollections is the warmth and tenderness of his best friend by his side. Maybe this is when he and Gai diverged, when Gai clearly became the better of their twosome and grew up with the emotional depth and profundity he has now.

“...Gai, do you ever wonder what would have happened if you never got into the Academy when you did? You would always be a ninja, I believe that but what if we never crossed paths again after meeting in front of the school gates?”

Wouldn’t that be something? After getting Gai’s name only for Kakashi to never see him again? Even though he's the one who brought it up, Kakashi finds it difficult to imagine a life without Gai. Would he have made it to thirty-two? Kakashi doesn’t entertain the thought longer than necessary. His life has been set ever since he came across the energetic boy who took his callous slight and returned it with a gracious cheer.

“I’m glad you never gave up being a shinobi… Or on me…”

Kakashi’s breath catches. This is it. The moment this was all leading to. He’s gone through everything, the thorns in his mind which chase away sleep. The months planning this genjutsu for Kakashi to properly apologize in the times he should’ve had all been in service of this one question he wants to ask Gai, but alarmingly the words will not materialize into sound. The cold chill of doubt restricts his throat. However, Kakashi isn’t afraid of possible rejection.

No. He is scared that Gai, out of loyalty and duty to his Eternal Rival, might fulfill this desire. If so… the choice is clear. Kakashi cannot allow himself to ask such a selfish, amoral request from the man he cares for so dearly.

If he really cherishes Gai this much, he cannot ask the question burning on the tip of his tongue. It's his turn to don his mask and hide his true feelings for Gai's sake. Tears do not well up in Kakashi’s eyes, and his heart does not clutch in agony. This is the right thing to do. His throat is hot but the sentences exit unimpeded like a silver sword slashing out of flesh.

“And… that’s it. These are my regrets with how I treated you. Hah." His mouth is suddenly bone dry. "There’s more that I want to say, and ask, but I don’t think I have the right to. I thought if only I could figure out a way to apologize for the things I've done throughout the years, maybe… but now that we're here I realized I was a lot more awful to you than I remembered. I guess even a jaded asshole like me can get fooled by nostalgia, huh?”

Gai jerks his head side to side to dramatically signal his disagreement. Kakashi chuckles, and the boy huffs his disapproval loudly. Jeez, okay, Gai. Kakashi gets it. Not fully satisfied, his friend subsequently crosses his arms and shakes his head again, this time with less vigor.

Something about the long, black hair that sways like a silky robe cascading from Gai’s head triggers a memory within Kakashi. A declaration at the Academy that was more like a promise — how innocent and sweet Gai was and yes, still is, saying lovely things with a valiant cause. Except Kakashi is certain that little Gai had no idea what exactly he was professing all those years ago.

“Should have known you wouldn't let me be self-deprecating even at a time like this. Will you agree that I've made you wait on these apologies for a long time?" Kakashi asks.

Gai's fingers tap restlessly over his bicep before he uncrosses his arms and lets them hang at his sides. He swallows and lowers his head, lifting it back up in unenthusiastic assent.

“Thank you. Not just for that. For everything... And now that I've said my piece, I want to hear what you have to say. Go ahead and lay it on me. Don't hold back.”

There is a second’s worth of pause. Next, the silence breaks to hearty laughs to Kakashi’s surprise. The sound is squeaky. A child’s. But Gai opens his mouth and the words that follow belong to a man who has carved into maturity with his own two hands.

“I can’t take you seriously looking like that. You were a really serious kid, but not this much, dear Rival. Okay… well… where should I start…?” Gai muses. He rubs his chin and must be startled by how tiny it is from how he flinches. Then that tiny mouth turns up into a megawatt smile, offering Kakashi a glimpse of willpower sure as the fire that is the bedrock to Konoha’s founding principle.

Kakashi chuckles silently at this reacting pang in the depths of his heart. He knows what it means; he is confident about this sensation, this knowledge, this conclusion. It's crystal clear. He thinks about the thing he hasn't been able to stop thinking about for the last few decades. The one thought that has been bouncing around his head nonstop since he was a child. Kakashi is thinking about how he is _in love_ with Gai.

(He must be.)

So it’s only natural his heart swells with affection when Gai moves as he does, lively and yes, stupidly _Youthful_ , to stand in front of him and give Kakashi a patented Nice Guy pose, gleaming grin and all.

“Alright! I know exactly where to start now!” Gai declares, and Kakashi raises an eyebrow when the little body folds over in a wince. However, Gai regains his composure, clears his throat, and says:

“The best place to start is at the beginning! Right where everything started.”

Kakashi braces himself for what’s to come, heart beating madly from affection and uncertainty. The bed squeaks when he leans back and the item in his back pocket digs into him like a kunai at his spine. _It’d be more fitting in his heart,_ he thinks sarcastically.

Gai looks ready. Kakashi’s chest twinges. So. Here they go.

He’ll accept whatever Gai has to say, and hopes that they will still be friends by the time Gai finishes.


	2. Chapter 2

Two small boys sit side-by-side on the bed of the Hokage's quarters quietly contemplating their shared lives. Even in Gai’s wildest dreams when he was a youth —ah, he means _a child!_ He is always young— he never would have pictured him and his Eternal Rival actually inside the bedroom which housed Konoha’s greatest. To be honest, Gai’s focus since he was a child was only to be an outstanding ninja, not really Hokage as many of his peers had once declared. Plus, he’s pretty sure Kakashi didn’t want to be Hokage, either.

However, he and his rival are no longer children, and their childhood desires have not manifested in the ways they pictured.

He has always considered himself someone who looks only forward but as he's become older — no, not older, more _knowledgeable_ — he's grown to appreciate the pleasant warmth of nostalgia. The situation he currently finds himself in is not exactly how he usually reminisces with his rival, but he knows that Kakashi does have his own stylistic flair for the dramatic.

Gai stretches his legs in front of himself, lifts his right, and quietly admires his foot. It's odd seeing how small it is. Odder is how real it feels moving it without any pain. Kakashi really outdid himself with this jutsu. Everything about his features is a perfect copy from an era long ago. His bruised hands are stubby and his hair is itchy against his chin and neck; he remembers why he had Papa cut it for the first time. With one final kick of both legs, he leaps off the bed with a flourish and turns to face his rival, arm out in front of him and his thumb raised and proud.

“Alright! I know exactly where to start now!” He booms loudly, hoping to diffuse some of the tension, but he cringes and deflates a little when he hears himself. It’s still surprising hearing the timbre of his voice, high and trilly when he’s expecting the same rich, deep tone he hears every day. He clears his throat and tries again, “The best place to start is at the beginning! Right where everything started.”

Kakashi's eyes widen before they turn soft, fondness so apparent Gai feels shy suddenly. He really feels like he's five again, both craving Kakashi’s attention and scared of it as well. However, the expression his rival has is a rare encounter, and Gai doesn’t know if it has ever been directed at him before. This genuine softness like a dandelion puff feels as gentle as it is fragile. So Gai opts not to make a loud note of it in case it blows away from Kakashi’s features.

The naked emotion currently on his rival's face reminds him of the Kakashi before Sakumo-san took his own life, before he started to close himself off from his own feelings and other people. Arrogant and rude, but also fiercely loyal and fair. Kakashi from the Academy days was already so sure of himself and his future, unlike Gai who had been uncertain without his papa’s aid.

They both had been such different people as young children. The question that Kakashi had asked him earlier flashes in his mind again. _"What if we never crossed paths again after meeting in front of the school gates?"_

Gai finds it incredibly difficult to envision a world where Kakashi isn't his rival, can't imagine a version of himself that wouldn't have felt drawn to challenge Kakashi, even if only to prove himself. In his mind, only Hatake Kakashi is his Eternal Rival. Although, he can readily admit that in their early years they had a lot of help from Papa and Sakumo-san.

Without Sakumo-san’s encouragement, would Kakashi have noticed him? Have expected him to do better, which in a strange self-fulfilling prophecy, pushed Gai to persevere and improve? Or would Kakashi have written Maito Gai off like every other student at the Academy until he proved himself?

Truth be told, Gai doesn’t have very clear memories of Sakumo-san, not only from his difficulty at remembering faces but also because Sakumo-san became reclusive after the tide of public opinion on him changed. Thus the Sakumo-san in his memories is the kind, lanky figure who hovered nervously around Kakashi as he tried, unsuccessfully, to reign in his impudent five-year-old. The Sakumo-san in his memories is the only other adult, besides his papa, who encouraged Gai, who believed in him, who envisioned a bright future for him. Even at such a young age, Gai understood what it meant for someone of Sakumo-san’s status to treat the Maitos with nothing but respect. The fact that he openly pushed Kakashi to accept Gai as his rival must have raised more than a few eyebrows.

Although Gai can look back on this point of their lives with fondness, he has a hard time navigating exactly how he should feel about Kakashi's father. It’s strange that the man whose face and voice Gai can barely remember changed his and Kakashi’s lives in such contrasting ways. On one hand, Sakumo-san was undoubtedly instrumental to Gai’s personal growth, but on the other hand, he had unwittingly become the catalyst for so much of Kakashi’s suffering.

Placing his hands on his hips, Gai tilts his head over to his rival seated at the edge of the bed. It’s a habit he’s picked up in adulthood when he’d lecture his students, and he abruptly feels a little silly when he thinks about what he must look like to Kakashi. The other man — no, boy? Ah, this genjutsu illusion thing _is_ really confusing — is watching him carefully. To people who don’t know Kakashi well, his expression might come off as indifferent but Gai can tell he’s bracing himself for whatever comes out of Gai’s mouth.

His rival, in unconscious reflex, kicks his feet, but his short legs do not reach the floor. It’d be humorous to point it out, but all it does is remind Gai of how vulnerable Kakashi was at that time, barring his haughtiness and confidence. Gai swallows, the thoughts collecting in his head like dew threatening to spill off a crooked petal. Kakashi did say not to hold anything back… A little wrinkle knits in the center of Gai’s brows as he sighs.

“I’m starting now,” Gai declares, and his certainty is definitely a product of his experience and growth. He muses that his five-year-old self wouldn’t be able to sound like this without practicing in the mirror. “If you want to interject, I won’t stop you, dear Rival… but I hope you also would let me say everything too. Because first of all, I’m sorry to you, as well. I wish Papa and I could have done more.”

Gai punctuates his statement by bowing and righting himself back up. To that display, his rival’s watching eye goes round like a marble. The other one, hidden under a tuft of white, shaggy hair, must be equally as surprised. Gai stretches his arms back behind his back, a casual motion to shrug off the shock coming from Kakashi.

“Don’t you remember, Rival? The night Sakumo-san asked Papa to let you sleep over at our house. Though you did not want to,” Gai chuckles, or he means to, the higher pitch of his voice makes it come out more like a giggle.

His rival crosses a leg over the other and lets out a single haunting laugh. Or a breath imitating one.

“...Yeah, I didn’t. He told Dai he had a mission, that he was going away for a while,” Kakashi adds to the memory, “I was annoyed because he had left me home alone before, so why did I have to sleep over at your place? After dinner, Dai offered me his spot in the futon and I had to sleep next to you — it was the first time I had to witness your obnoxious snoring.”

Gai feels heat spread on his face and knows his cheeks are getting beet-red as he defends himself, “Hey, I didn’t snore back then!”

Kakashi’s black eye glints in a way that shouldn’t be cute when he asserts, leaning forward from the edge of the bed, “Yes, you did.”

“But you never stayed over the night to know for sure.” Gai reins himself from devolving into a childish argument with his Eternal Rival. His tone sobers up as he recalls the image of a white flash opening the bedroom window and dashing out into the moonlight, and into the dark.

That night, Kakashi snuck out to go home. And he found his father there, already dead.

Gai can’t possibly begin to imagine the scene that Kakashi walked into that night, thinking about it now still fills him with dread. Kakashi has never told him the details and Papa had told him simply that Sakumo-san had had an accident. The snippets of hushed gossip he heard from shinobi and civilians conflicted with each other, but there was one conclusion that everyone seemed to agree on: it had been brutal for the first responders, let alone for the White Fang’s son to see.

“...I wish I didn’t let you go off alone that night Sakumo-san died.” Gai admits.

His rival shifts, drops the leg back down. He stares at Gai with a haunted gaze of confusion.

“You—?” Kakashi starts and Gai nods, fast and ashamed.

“Yes, I was awake at that time, Kakashi. I’m sorry,” Gai confesses, voice soft and almost a whisper.

“So you were only pretending to snore? Hah, how sneaky of you,” Kakashi quips and Gai knows the deflecting humor is a self-defense mechanism to give him time to process the new information.

Gai's temples throb. While he knows Kakashi means no harm, he feels like he isn’t being listened to. He’s being honest, it really did weigh in his thoughts. Maybe if he had been there with his rival in his darkest hour then maybe Kakashi wouldn’t have felt so alone.

“I’m serious, Rival,” Gai says, arms out and imploring, “I wish I didn’t let you go — I was a coward... afraid of the dark. A childish, stupid fear held me back from being by your side when—”

Kakashi jumps from the bed and grips Gai’s shoulders so tightly it almost hurts. At this age, or in the illusion of it, his rival is taller by a quarter of an inch. Gai feels the shyness return at the unbreaking stare of Kakashi’s eyes directed at him. The small hands are solid on his bare shoulders and Kakashi draws Gai in a bit closer.

“Gai. You didn't _‘let me go.’_ You know how much of a brat I was, I always hated being told what to do. I would have gone whether you had noticed or not. And there’s no way you could have guessed what I’d…” His eyes grow distant for a second before they focus back on Gai’s. “I’m glad you didn’t come with me that night. I don’t know what I would have done if you had seen Sakumo like that too.”

Gai hears the sincerity in Kakashi’s voice, sees it in his eyes, knows he means this with every fiber of his being; nevertheless Gai is conflicted. He’s spent years imagining hypotheticals on what he could have done to change the outcome of that night, to spare Kakashi that pain. Or to share it. He intuitively guesses that Kakashi would've never wanted that and knows without a doubt now that he would not wish that trauma on Gai too. Yet. Yet, even though he understands the selfishness of wanting to insert yourself into someone else’s tragedy he wishes he had been there at Kakashi’s side.

“Besides, if you tried to stop me, I would have fought you tooth and nail and went home regardless,” Kakashi smirks with one visible eye.

Gai supposes he still is the rebellious child under the years of meditation and training as he automatically fires back, “Who says you would have won if we fought that night? You would be wrapped up in blankets at my place with my papa tending to your wounds!”

Kakashi’s five-year-old face dissolves into an awed, quirked eyebrow, followed by a crinkly-eyed smile. Gai’s heart thumps faster and he tells himself to will it down.

“Perhaps,” Kakashi lightly teases, tapping Gai on the cheek before drawing his hand back, “or it’d end with me having to explain to Dai why you got some new bruises.”

“Ah, well, you didn’t help me explain to Papa that day those chunin sent me to the hospital. I really could have used it! He got so mad at me,” he means it as a joke but Kakashi quickly grows somber. Gai’s lips tug at the corners from the urge to comment that Kakashi reminds him of Pakkun when the ninken’s being scolded, but judges against it. Instead, Gai claps his hands and then raises one fist up triumphantly, punching through the air and hopefully Kakashi’s negative thoughts.

“But that’s fine, Rival! You helped me make a new self-rule that day! I decided that I would return _at least_ one punch when I had to deal with bad-mouthers! I thought, _if Kakashi could do it, then I could do it too_!” Gai exclaims theatrically, parrying an invisible enemy, and Kakashi outright laughs. Gai regains poise, grinning and putting his hands over his hips. He hopes that shine in Kakashi’s eyes is a sort of dazzled enjoyment, that his rival enjoys Gai’s exuberance as much as Gai likes putting on the show.

“As much as I don’t like to think I was a troublemaker, I know I couldn’t help but pick fights… I was a rowdy kid, huh, Kakashi?” Gai laughs and rubs the back of his neck.

Kakashi crosses his arms but that black eye is shining and slightly folded in mirth. “‘ _Rowdy’_ would be a way to put it, but I prefer to think of you as _rambunctious_.” Kakashi segments the last word like a mandarin orange, each slice of a syllable sweet-sounding to Gai’s ears. Gai vice grips his neck tighter to literally get a hold of himself and not be so _weak_ to Kakashi's voice elegantly curling and brushing inside his eardrums.

“Ah, ha, ha… Well, I was just so angry and sad all the time,” Gai mumbles and fights the pinch in his eyes. He knows he cries easily, but he has made a self-rule a long time ago to stop crying about _this_. “I… I didn’t understand why everyone hated my papa so much. I hated that they laughed at him when he was just doing his best. There were times when I wasn’t str… when I was influenced by the _hopelessness_ of it and began to doubt the sayings Papa would tell me.”

 _Ah, there was a falter,_ Gai criticizes himself. _Next time, I’ll be stronger, Papa._

Kakashi drops his arms and they hover at his side, and Gai allows himself to hope that it's Kakashi wanting to hug him then and there. He knows that's probably not the case since his rival doesn't encroach, but the thought is nice.

The moment of weakness, of selfish desire, passes. Gai clears his throat and enunciates, “I should thank you, my Eternal Rival! I can't envision a life without you but I wonder who I would have become if I hadn't met you and Sakumo-san when I did!" Gai arcs his arm around into his now perfected Nice Guy pose to an astounded Kakashi.

"What? Rival, are you stunned speechless by the power of my Youth?" Gai teases.

"No. I. Gai. I didn't do anything," Kakashi says, "I demoralized you, even when you got beaten up protecting my father's nam—"

"Rude! If you thought I got ' _beaten up_ ,' you should see the other guys, Kakashi!" Gai rubs a finger under his nose. He scolds himself after. He shouldn’t be too proud of his Youthful throwdowns.

"So?" His rival frowns. "That doesn't change how I acted."

"And how did you act, Kakashi?”

Kakashi shrugs as if saying, _‘You know.’_ And Kakashi is right, Gai _knows._

“You never treated me like everyone else in our class or the rest of the village for that matter. When you acted disappointed in me I could tell that it was because you expected more out of me, compared to everyone else who thought I would never amount to anything. You were annoyed that I couldn’t catch up yet. I guess it’d be strange if I was in your shoes but to me, that meant so much.” Gai explains, the corners of his vision going blurry from withheld tears of admiration.

It was and it’s still in Kakashi’s eyes when he looks at Gai sometimes, this silent message beckoning Gai to prove him wrong. It’s this secret throughline between them that sparks the fire in Gai’s blood. No one has ever encompassed him like this in their gaze; this is why he’ll follow Kakashi to the ends of the earth and return together.

“And, if memory serves me right… Rival, you were rude to everyone. I’m pretty sure Obito got meaner comments from you than I did!” Gai chuckles and Kakashi snorts. Acknowledgment received.

“He deserved half of them,” says Kakashi, playing it off and picking off lint from his scarf. “And I deserve more.”

“Ack! You were five Kakashi, stop beating yourself up for it!” Gai would punch his rival if it wouldn’t hypocritically underline his statement. He wouldn’t beat up for Kakashi for beating himself up, that would defeat the purpose!

He clears his throat and directs a finger straight at Kakashi. “I’m glad that we have the opportunity to talk about this, I had no idea that you saw these incidents in such a different light than I did. It makes sense now in hindsight but, because it was so meaningful to me, I would have never guessed.”

“What about after?” Kakashi questions. “When I changed.”

Gai sips a breath in between his teeth. His lips purse without him meaning to, and he can see Kakashi’s eye glance to observe. He tucks his pout away as he contemplates his next words. Kakashi isn’t wrong; after his father’s death, he became colder, quieter, and although not crueler, he did get harsher. But Gai could tell then that his rival didn’t truly believe the heartless things said about Sakumo-san. There was still the old Kakashi within the husk.

Because, even then, he would still let Gai in. He would still look back if Gai called his name (even if it was after the fifth time). Gai remembers the promises he made in his head, _if Kakashi looks back before I call his name ten times, then we are still Eternal Rivals and he wants me around!_

“What about it? The you I knew from before, the you I knew was still in there, was the one who told me to fight back. That’s why I couldn’t let Sakumo-san or you down! I fought for not only his sake but also for you who couldn’t fight at the time!” he proclaims.

Kakashi is the one ducking his head, flushing as he mutters out a thanks. Gai gently calls Kakashi's name intending to ask him something but he momentarily forgets it when he sees another expression he would have never seen when they were both actually five years old. Gai sees Kakashi’s face and finds shyness and a little embarrassment, but ultimately Kakashi looks... pleased. He wonders when Kakashi started to allow himself to outwardly show those emotions like that in front of him and then comes to the wonderful knowledge that it’s been since the war has ended.

Annoyance, anger, pain, grief… those faces of Kakashi were the staple of his past. Gai licks his lips as he decides to go forward. There’s more to talk about.

“Could you hm, make us twelve again?” Gai asks, wanting to address some of the alarming things Kakashi has told him not that long ago with the proper faces.

“I don’t know any time travel ninjutsu, Gai,” Kakashi obliquely replies. And he probably gets his intended effect since Gai stomps his little foot. Darn Kakashi and his well-timed Hip and Cool Response!

“Yeah, yeah, you know what I mean, Rival." He scolds halfheartedly. The corners of his lips twitch. It's unfair how charming his rival's teasing can be.

Kakashi snorts, claps his hands together, and in a blink, they're twelve again. Gai wonders if the motion is necessary or if it's his rival being dramatic again, but he allows himself to take the time to observe his rival at twelve years old… and realizes there’s something different than the Kakashi in his memories.

His rival’s clothes are the same, Kakashi is a master at details, after all, the crossbody belt intersecting diagonally across his chest has a gleaming buckle and Gai can see the faint contour of the delicate pommel and hilt wrap of the tanto blade. The metal arm guards shine when Kakashi crosses his arms over his chest. He gazes at Gai with an appraising eye.

Ah, that’s it. Gai’s noticed the difference. This illusioned twelve-year-old version of his rival stands a lot straighter than the heavy shouldered figure in his recollections. It’s comforting that much of the burden Kakashi has carried is gone now. Gai smiles, and Kakashi scoffs.

“What,” Kakashi drawls.

“I was just thinking you look nice!”

“What?” Kakashi splutters, arms dropping, and Gai laughs.

His rival deflates, shoulders hunching forward in a full-body pout, and it's so Sakumo-esque Gai can't hold in a snort.

"Are you making fun of me?" Kakashi whines indignantly. Gai unsuccessfully tries to muffle his giggles in his golden scarf.

"No, haha! I always thought you were handsome but I mean to say, it's nice seeing how differently you carry yourself now. You feel and look, hm, _freer_? It’s nice on you."

Gai explains and Kakashi buries his face in his hand. Hah! How adorable, Kakashi must be feeling shy from the compliment! His rival keeps his face there, caged in the gloved fingers and the scrunched up brow is cute until it triggers a memory. Of him and Kakashi in a hospital room, Kakashi clawing at his Sharingan and trying to rip it out. There’s the sound of his rival's keening wail as faceless nurses push a struggling Gai out the door.

_"The boulder, it's crushing him! No! Stop! Let me save him!"_

Gai feels both ice and fire collide in his lungs. He inhales and is met with a stinging exhale. There’s another shared regret that Gai wants to touch upon. Actually touch, if possible.

“Rival,” Gai asks and Kakashi jolts up to look at him warily with his black eye. The part of the mask over his mouth juts out a little. Gai puts up a hand and smiles to placate. “Could you… _would_ you lift up your headband, please?”

There’s a pause and Gai fears he’s crossed a line before Kakashi, without preamble, hooks a thumb under the navy blue fabric and flicks up the forehead protector. He reveals the scarred flesh once more but keeps the eye closed. Gai lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding until his chest burns for release. Then he slowly steps forward, an eye trained for any instance of Kakashi wanting out, and finding none, he moves undaunted. Within moments Kakashi’s skin is under his fingertips.

It is warm and supple. Gai tells himself the red, flared-up wound is all in their minds. However, he cannot help but gently run his thumb along the depressed scar. His thumb travels back up to the closed eyelid and Gai asks in a whisper only made for the space in between them.

“Will you open your eye for me?”

“It’s not mine,” is the retort. Soft and unsure.

“Rival, you carried it for over twenty years. I think it suffices to say it was a part of you.”

Gai moves his hand away when the eye blinks open and he sees his reflection in the crimson iris of the Sharingan. Kakashi might see this as Obito’s, but Gai will always believe Kakashi wore it better.

Returning his thumb, Gai carefully traces around the Sharingan and the scar edging into Kakashi’s fair eyebrow. He thinks he hears a sigh, but it is too faint for Gai to be sure.

“Huh, so that’s how it feels… Thank you!” Gai puts his hand away behind his back. The awareness of his actions starts to simmer heat in his face when he looks to see Kakashi looking at him.

“For…?” His Eternal Rival asks and takes a step away, ears tinged pink. Maybe Kakashi feels embarrassed too by Gai’s out of the blue touch. Oh, that must be it. Gai’s airy indulgence turns into solid guilt that festers in the pit of his stomach.

“I, um… I’ve always wanted to do that,” Gai says and runs a hand through his hair. It catches on the headband he used to wear at twelve, and Gai remembers why he switched back to a belt later on. His thoughts feel like they’re being squished. All of them want to get out and Gai is in agreement. He wants to escape. But he is no longer twelve.

He is thirty-two and he’s had a lot of time to ruminate.

"I was never scared of you but I didn't understand how to comfort you when you received the Sharingan. I only knew the way I coped and that was putting... a positive spin on everything.” Gai chuckles deprecatingly when Kakashi shoots him a glance that’s all jumped eyebrows and a wide, disbelieving eye. Maybe his rival wasn’t expecting Gai to come clean about his idiosyncrasies.

Gai doesn’t remember the details of that decades-old conversation outside of young Kakashi glaring at him with his good eye as fiery as the blood-red of the Sharingan. In the hallway of the medical ward, Kakashi said he didn’t want to talk to Gai anymore and shoved him aside.

He continues, “I know now that's not what you needed. Some things take time to process before you can take a step forward… I only wish I had known that at the time instead of tactlessly trying to give you an unwanted pep talk.”

Kakashi’s shoulders tense, a hand splays on the X on his body. Gai tells himself the X is the belt, but his eyes play a trick on him. For a moment, Gai remembers and projects the image of the crisscrossing wound which had serrated through Kakashi’s vest, his shirt, and his body during the war. And he feels again how his own heart had felt slashed through when he picked up Kakashi.

Unbeknownst to Gai’s rueful memory, Kakashi lobs out the start of an insult to himself, “Don’t, I was an ass—”

“Kakashi. You were grieving. You were going through a death that shook you to your core. I know that feeling. Please, no more.” Gai cuts him off.

“Gai.” A call of his name, but nothing else. Kakashi is listening, learning. He’s always been so smart. A genius is what everyone called him, Gai included.

A knowing and sad smile on his lips, Gai adds another request, “Could you make us fourteen, Rival?”

His rival kindly blinks, and Gai blinks as well to focus on the sight of Hatake Kakashi at fourteen. The ANBU armor, Kakashi’s first iteration of their uniforms, crinkles at its midsection when Kakashi returns to sit on that bed. Tired of standing too, Gai joins him. He keeps his distance, taking into account his rival’s comfort.

“You’re so hard on yourself, Kakashi,” Gai teases and Kakashi emits an audible sniff.

“And you’re not, Gai?”

“Aha, you got me there… but in all honesty, Rival, I am not sure if I would have been able to accept the comfort you were trying to offer to me. When Papa died.”

Surprisingly, the bed dips. Gai tilts his head over at Kakashi’s face, only inches away from his. That flight response tickles the back of his throat and tingles in his limbs however Gai fights it. If he moves, then Kakashi might pull back. Yes, any second now. But Kakashi doesn’t.

Gai swallows, drinking in his rival’s face so close like this. And so does Kakashi, Adam’s apple bobbing under the black fabric. Perhaps Kakashi is mapping Gai’s expression as much as Gai is doing it to Kakashi. Maybe they’re dedicated cartographers making an atlas of each other’s features, making the unknown _known_ as they explore each other.

“When you look at me at this age, what do you see, Kakashi?” Gai braves it, though his fingers are trembling when they grip the bedsheets.

“...I see how I failed you,” Kakashi answers, and the gaze sinks. No. Gai doesn’t want that.

 _Don’t look down_ , he begs in his head, _look at me, please._

Kakashi might have had his idea of how the night went, but Gai knows what it was like to have Kakashi by his side on one of the most painful events in his life.

He still has trouble unraveling the cruel twist of fate that led up to his papa’s death. The way everything fell into place feels like some sort of vicious joke made by a sadistic overseer.

The moment Gai understood he would not be able to protect his teammates and that they all would die, his father jumped out to save them. There was a thumbs up and a reassuring smile. And for a moment, he childishly felt safe. Like everything would be alright. And then. And then he realized what it meant and what his papa was planning to do.

What happened after his papa plunged his thumb into his chest was hazy crimson and green snapshots. The tension in his papa’s back as he rushed forwards into battle, the forest scenery blurry while his teammates dragged him to safety. Genma pulled his left arm, Ebisu his right, and shouting from all three of them alerted ANBU patrolling Konoha’s borders who then whisked them away and into the village. Gai’s sure he was pleading them to go back, maybe with the added numbers they could help his papa, maybe they could save him before the Gates consumed him completely, but no one would listen. 

No one would listen at all. Even the late Lord Third and the Council of Elders, seated in their high-backed chairs, wouldn’t heed any of Gai’s fervent pleads. They were too busy with questions of their own, grilling Team Choza and talking amongst themselves about the fact that members of the Hidden Mist Village were able to infiltrate so deeply into Konoha’s borders, and what that would do to their reputation.

After what seemed to be a heated deliberation, it was the bandaged man, Shimura Danzo, who finally spoke up above all the other voices: _for the good of Konoha, no one outside this room can know what happened today. No one will speak about the manner of Maito Dai’s death and officially he will be missing in action. Although we value his sacrifice, we cannot risk the chance that the Hidden Mist, or any other hidden village for that matter, will make a similar attempt if news of this gets out._

Gai doesn’t remember how he got outside, if it was by his own two feet or if Genma and Ebisu had to help him again, but he does remember how cool the night air felt against his hot skin. He recalls both of his teammates turning to him and beginning to say something before they were both yanked into the arms of their waiting families. He remembers how painfully his throat constricted at the sight and how he ran away even as the other boys yelled after him.

The outskirts of Konoha had been clear and cloudless. He could have pointed out every constellation his papa had taught him if he had wanted to. It was the kind of night his papa had loved the most; the kind of night where he would place a blanket outside so they could watch the stars together. It was almost grotesque how normal that night was. As if nothing life-shattering had happened mere hours earlier. Gai had felt rooted to the spot when it hit him that no one would be waiting for him as he neared their—his house. Not now. Not anymore.

As he stood there wondering if it was too late to go back and find accommodations within Konoha proper, he noticed a seated figure leaning against the front door when he took a better look at the shack. The moon illuminated a wild tuft of silver hair and the boy it belonged to, still in his ANBU gear, curled up at the threshold of Gai’s home. Two mismatched eyes looked up at him and Gai had immediately known that Kakashi had somehow learned what happened.

(When Gai was older, he figured the fact that the Maito residence had been cold and dark, instead of warm and filled with light and noise, was probably a huge hint to his rival that things were amiss.)

Kakashi stood up once Gai had spotted him, moved aside to let Gai unlock the door, and wordlessly followed him inside. Gai advanced toward the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea for his guest (like his papa had taught him) but Kakashi gently took the teapot away from him and set it down carefully on the counter. The rare tenderness of Kakashi’s touch caused some precariously built dam to finally break inside of him. The stress and grief of everything that had happened crashed over him like a tidal wave. And he choked, both on the lump in his throat, and the ash and dirt that clung to his body.

Tears gathering in his eyes, Gai rushed towards his and Dai’s shared — no, only his room now — unwilling to let Kakashi see him cry. He’d never been one to be shy about his feelings but something about this was different. He didn’t want to be ungrateful after his papa had sacrificed everything so Gai could live out their dream.

The futon was where they had left it in the morning, Papa had probably left it for him to put away. The first sob of many finally forced its way past his lips. It was such a tiny, little thing, but realizing that the one day he had forgotten to do this chore was also the day that his papa had…

He dove under the blankets as he used to when he was younger and scared of the dark. However, this wasn’t like the imaginary ghosts he had hidden from back then. Papa wasn’t going to magically be alive when he pulled the blanket off in the morning. He was gone.

Hiding under the blankets had been a mistake. The thick cloth clung to his face as he gasped desperately, unable to take a full breath. Each sob that wracked through his body came so quickly he felt like he was suffocating in his grief and he began to panic. His vision turned hazy, he didn’t know if it was because of the tears or the lack of oxygen. Clutching at his neck, he willed his body to _just breathe! Fight and push through this!_ But his lungs would not cooperate. Gai wondered if this was what dying was like.

Did your mind keep valiantly fighting the inevitable as the rest of your body shut down around you? Were you left with nothing but your own desperation, fruitlessly begging your body to persevere? Was this what had been going through Papa’s head as he turned to ash?

A persistent, loud, and pitiful wheezing pulled Gai out of his thoughts, and with a start, he realized it was him who was the one making that noise. But there was also a warmth pushing at his side that he was sure hadn’t been there moments ago. Its weight gently held him steady, and he felt the instinctual urge to push against it. As he did, he realized that he had been huddled over with his knees to his chest.

Rising to a normal sitting position, he noticed that whoever had been pressing into him moved back but not pull away completely. He didn’t need to lift off the blanket to understand the grounding presence next to him was Kakashi, in another rare expression of open kindness. On its own, his body slowly began to match his erratic breathing with Kakashi’s measured exhales, and although he could not stop the sobs, he managed to calm down considerably.

Kakashi did not speak or push him. He just sat by Gai’s side in the lonely little shack throughout the deepening night. In the darkness that Gai had feared for so long, he found comfort and a quiet understanding from someone who could comprehend exactly what he was going through. He wouldn’t be alone when the sun came out tomorrow. There, he made his choice. Starting the next day he would not disgrace his papa by crying and instead work hard to become the man his papa had hoped he would.

“Rival, I didn’t know how to cope with what happened outside of acting like I was fine. I thought Papa would have wanted me to move on and work on my goals. I thought… if I grieved for too long, I would be betraying my papa’s sacrifice. It’s silly, I know. Papa just wanted me to be happy, but I didn’t understand what _being happy_ meant.”

His fingers must have wound around the sheets in an unconscious impulse since Gai has to pull himself free from cottony clutches. Kakashi really thought of himself as a bad friend because of Gai’s actions, huh? Well, it’s not true. Patting the fabric smoothly back into place, he says the next things on his mind without looking at his rival.

“You say you were a coward taking the outs, but if you had kept pushing, perhaps I would have done or said something I too would regret. I wasn’t just trying to hide my feelings from you at the time Kakashi. I did it to Genma, Ebisu, and the others too.”

He cursorily glances at his rival to see if he’s looking, and yes, Kakashi is. With an unbarred face of sadness. Surprised, Gai flickers his eyes back to his hands and gives a single-shouldered shrug. Genma and Ebisu were the ones who had to put up with the full brunt of Gai’s “positivity.” They tried to get Gai to talk about Dai, but Gai wouldn’t allow it. For years, Gai wouldn’t even allow that conversation with himself.

“The truth is I didn’t understand what to do with what I was feeling. I couldn’t even really let myself. I’ve come to understand that sometimes there are things that people have to deal with on their own. There’s only so much support they will accept and sometimes just knowing you have a friend to ride it out with you is enough.”

Gai reaches out for Kakashi’s hand and squeezes it once to say his thanks. Moving to draw it back, Gai is confused when there’s resistance for a second. He cranes his neck to check but there’s nothing there. Maybe he imagined Kakashi reaching out to hold his hand more than to check for injuries. It wouldn’t be the first time Gai has thought of that.

Pressing on, Gai professes, “You said that you grew distant. That’s not true. If you were distant, well, look how close we are now, right? You came back. It was your defense mechanism at the time to close yourself off, I learned that. And I know mine was… is… to push forward to the breaking point.”

He lightly scratches his cheek with a scarred fingertip because Kakashi’s eye wanders down to his right leg. In the genjutsu, it’s upright as can be. But both of them know this is only illusioned skin, muscle, bone. Kakashi has never outright spoken out about Gai resuming training after he was cleared from intensive physical therapy, though his rival would supervise his exercise regimens and would even help Gai to his chair when Gai inevitably overdid it. But his touches have had that wariness, that quiet plea asking Gai to rest his mind and body which Gai promptly ignored.

He cannot let up. He wasn’t vigilant enough and lost his irreplaceable student. Neji died due to his shortcomings as a shinobi and as a teacher. Gai will always live knowing that.

So how can he lighten up the training when all he has left in the world are his two remaining students, his kids, to protect? What wouldn’t he do for Lee, his precious son, the model for Gai’s new purpose in life; and Tenten, his cherished daughter, who has grown up stronger and wiser than Gai himself? It’s Tenten who does it one morning, blanketing a training ground he frequents with kunais and shurikens, making the area practically useless for the day. She calls him out for overworking himself.

_"It was bad enough having to watch Neji sacrifice himself and not be able to do anything. Don’t make me watch you do the same thing too, sensei.”_

Suddenly everything he has done in his entire life to mask bad pain with “good pain” comes into focus after that talk with Tenten. Gai realizes he can’t put a positive spin to losing his leg, it’s the one thing he can’t bulldoze past. No pain, no gain doesn’t apply here. Her final words saying, _"You just came out of death, why are you rushing back into it?"_ will always ring in his head.

“I miss it. My leg,” Gai confides in an undertone. Kakashi stirs and the frozen horror on his rival's features is too much for Gai to bear so he quickly adds on, hushed yet firm, “You didn’t take my leg away, you know that.”

Kakashi nods after a bitter second they both swallow.

"I don't know if I'd call myself _‘selfless’_. Taijutsu-style notwithstanding, what I do is inherently self-destructive. I was ' _always trying to die just like Dai,'_ isn’t that what you thought?" Gai hears Kakashi take a sharp intake of breath at hearing Gai repeat his words and assuming his thoughts as well from how Kakashi sharply faces the wall. Gai nods apologetically, slightly hating that his hunch was correct.

It's something they have both been dancing around their whole lives. The crux of the argument around the gates that neither ever touched directly. Ever since Dai died, Gai saw opening the Gate of Death as the absolute form of love. (A truth they both implicitly know but have never said out loud until now.)

The bed squeaks when Kakashi shifts nervously and inspect his sandals. "It’s not like I was any better," Kakashi mutters.

"Haha! No, I suppose not, Rival. We have both been racing after an honorable death." He smiles ruefully at his rival’s stooped form. They had both been so young when they lost so much and they never had a chance to learn how to deal with it properly. Not from their parents, mentors, or friends.

“But the point is that we were both kids, Kakashi. We didn’t know the first thing about how to deal with our own trauma, how could we be expected to perfectly help each other?”

“You did. You always knew how to make me feel better when I let you,” Kakashi answers without a second thought. It makes Gai’s heart twinge, knowing Kakashi meant every word.

“You did, too.” Gai returns the words with all the sincerity he can muster. They really did try to do their best for each other.

Kakashi smirks, and Gai doesn’t want to admit he thinks it’s handsome when objectively all he can see is that one eye in a slight squint. But he does. Kakashi makes him feel warm, happy.

“What about the other shit I did to you directly, then?” Kakashi challenges.

Kakashi also makes Gai feel hot, annoyed.

“Bwah! Why’d you have to say that!?” Gai stands up, spins on his leg, and wags a finger to scold right at his rival’s masked mouth.

“We’re only fourteen, you didn’t even get to the nastier parts of me,” Kakashi stands up too, and Gai giddily recognizes the height difference. He definitely shot up starting at fourteen years old. As if understanding what Gai is thinking, Kakashi cups Gai’s chin with a thumb and an index finger and brings him down so they’re eye-level. “Don’t forget to take the rose-colored glasses off when we get _older._ ”

That provocative and odd-fitting smirk is the last thing on fourteen-year-old Kakashi’s face until he blinks.

Gai makes the excuse that his flush reflected in the dark iris of sixteen-year-old Kakashi’s eye is from the irritating taunt than the confident touch of fingertips. Kakashi finally lets him go, and his rival flings his hands behind his neck and cradles it, effortlessly playing back into the lackadaisical and aloof pose he was known for in his youth. Gai rolls his eyes but smiles secretively. This is likely Kakashi’s way of saying he doesn’t want Gai to go easy on him.

Truthfully-speaking, Gai doesn’t think he can mince words about what happened when they were sixteen. If anything, this time of his life was one where he actively struggled in choosing whether or not he could be by his Eternal Rival’s side. Kakashi had been in ANBU for two years and bore the worst of its influence, lashing out or closing off to anyone who wasn’t a part of the elite death squad. Stroking his lip under his fingers and stabilizing his chin with his thumb, Gai ponders how exactly to broach this topic when he hears a muted hiss coming from his Rival.

His finger slips off his bottom lip and Gai belatedly realizes that’s what Kakashi’s been staring at. Oh. Right, of course. Their kiss.

The blood rushes to Gai's ears but luckily he’s able to keep the heat from spreading to his face. He doesn’t want Kakashi to know how much it affected him; his rival seemed so torn up about it. Now that Gai’s heard the full story, he knows he doesn’t have it in him to hold a grudge. What Kakashi said back then was painful, but he never said anything like that ever again.

“I didn’t know how to react,” Gai begins, carefully stepping into the topic, “when I saw you in my shower that night, unconscious. At first, I thought you were dead. Then I saw you weren’t, and I had to choose then and there, _do I want to be in his life? Do I want him in mine?”_

He admits to his rival that during the month after the kiss, he noticed Kakashi avoiding him. He also states he was avoiding Kakashi too. He needed time to think.

“I wondered if I should stop reaching out to you, if I was just a child in your eyes and no longer your equal. But after you stayed to help me make curry that night, I decided. The reason you were like this was because of ANBU and the best course of action was to get you out. What happened between us didn’t matter.”

It did matter, but in the bigger context of their relationship, Gai will hold off from digging into it. Besides, from how Kakashi framed the kiss, it sounds like an immense regret. Something he never meant to do to Gai. It’s why guilt swims in his churning stomach since, unlike Kakashi, Gai knows he’s wanted a redo.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that sort of pressure, Rival,” Gai says and gulps down the traitorous thought. “If I had known—”

“It’s a pressure I put on myself, Gai. What would you have done if you knew? Sleep with me?” Kakashi’s tone is biting enough for Gai to reel back.

He’s scandalized; the shock locks his knees into place, his nostrils flare to fill air down his constricted throat. The back of his neck is itchy, and the red scarf around it is too tight, just like his skin. If Kakashi told him all of this back then, would Gai have done it? Would he have slept with Kakashi?

“No,” Gai says after a bout of deliberation, “I think you would have hated that more.”

“Hah. Yeah, I would have.” Kakashi leisurely plops backward on the bed. Then, from the bed-lain figure comes another comment, “I’m glad you stuck with your principles. You really do know me best, Gai.”

A welcoming grin returning to Gai’s lips and heart soaring high, he launches himself to jump onto the mattress to join his rival. He laughs when Kakashi squawks his annoyance when they bounce. Come on, Rival! It’s not like Gai landed on him!

“Of course I do! You’re my Eternal Rival! And I’m yours, right?” Gai exclaims, arms out and kneeling next to Kakashi.

Kakashi looks up at Gai through messy silver hair and a barely visible half-squinted eye. Loosely clasped hands over his belly rise and fall with his breath.

“You’re mine, yeah.” He murmurs.

Somehow, everything about the way Kakashi says it makes every nerve inside dance. Gai self-consciously lets out a laugh and pivots his weight backward, creating distance. Sliding his legs out and around, he sits cross-legged. Kakashi snorts and rolls his eye and Gai’s chest stings with the best sort of burn, like the ones after doing two hundred pushups with one finger. He doesn’t realize he’s staring into Kakashi’s eye until the lid closes in a squinty smile.

“Do you want us to change now, Gai?” Kakashi asks.

“Uh, oh yeah! If you’re ready, Kakashi.” Gai quickly snatches up the offer.

His rival stretches his arms up and Gai gulps at the sliver of toned muscle rippling. Although Gai is wary to accept their ever-approaching old age, he privately admits to his baser thoughts he completely prefers seeing Kakashi as he in his thirties. His rival has always been strong and capable, and although much of Gai’s admiration is in acknowledgment and the thrill of reaching Kakashi’s level and surmounting it, there are additional reasons why Gai finds himself drawn to Kakashi like a magnet.

As Kakashi composes himself so that he’s sitting up, partly mirroring Gai with a cross-sit of his own style — one leg is drawn up to his chest so he can rest an arm on his knee, Gai keeps on glancing away every few seconds. It won’t happen but what if Kakashi can read his mind and what’s currently occupying it?

“You know you have to look into my eyes for the genjutsu to work, right?” Kakashi chastises.

Gai jolts and straightens his back.

“I know!” He chuckles… and ah, it’s unfair that Gai has to pretend and laugh off his attraction when Kakashi has been so forthcoming with his past interest. How could Gai do this and call himself Kakashi’s equal partner? Face flaming, he coughs into a fist and tries to push out the nervousness in his voice.

“You know, Rival, I never did _‘cross that threshold,_ ’ either… I just… it never came up again, I guess? Ah… hmm. I am glad at least that we are equals on this as well…. Ah! That’s not what I—I mean I’m not _happy_ that you haven’t or anything like that I just—!!”

Kakashi stares with one big round eye and Gai flusters. Why is he making this so awkward?? He clears his throat _again_ , but his face is burning, and so is Kakashi’s in light of the red blush bordering the edges of the black mask.

“It’s nice to know I’m not alone in this...? Yeah! It’s nice to have a comrade in this, haha…! Okay, let’s go to another age, now, please!” Gai begs, clasping both hands together and creating an audible little clap.

Generously, Kakashi grants the request without comment, as Kakashi’s looking so stunned Gai can tell he’s actually speechless and can’t quip back. Gai can’t tell if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.

A flash later, they change. To Gai’s delight, when they shift into their new genjutsu forms, Kakashi doesn’t have his ANBU mask on. Instead, the porcelain dog mask lies next to Kakashi’s leg. Twenty-year-old Kakashi rolls his shoulders back to small cracks and pops and lets out a snort.

“Feels like we’ve been talking for hours... Even if I look like this, I’ve got old man bones,” Kakashi complains.

“Hey! You don’t! Don’t say that, Kakashi!” Gai fired up with Youthful Vigour, grabs on to his rival’s shoulders and shakes him. Kakashi’s head lolls back and forth until he stops Gai by gently grasping a wrist.

“Okay, okay, stop… Oh, this is when you started packing muscle, hm?” His rival blithely points out and circles a thumb over Gai’s skin.

Gai draws his hands back; the place where Kakashi grabbed him throbs in rhythm to his rapid heartbeat. The sudden withdrawal must have also shocked Kakashi, whose hands are shoved into pockets. Ah, Gai didn’t mean to make Kakashi like that… Thinking on his feet, Gai flexes his biceps and grins.

“Yep! This supreme body you see before you is the blossoming result of hard work, diligence, and Youth!” Gai cheerily exclaims and his heart is sated when the tense line loosens from Kakashi’s shoulders. “Better late than never too; I know I was a late bloomer.”

“Maa, even if it didn’t seem like it, I was a late bloomer too,” Kakashi says.

“Haha, are you sure you didn't _‘seem like it?'_ I could tell we were equals there too, Rival.”

Looking back, Gai can pinpoint when he started to understand Kakashi’s proclivities. By the time he and Kakashi have turned twenty, Gai has concluded that maybe his rival wasn’t as much of a genius in the interpersonal relations department, especially when it came to courting. In an attempt to understand, Gai remembers his tumbling words when he asked Ebisu if he could borrow the shinobi's copy of _Icha Icha Paradise._

Ebisu had been smug that day, congratulating Gai for finally reaching adulthood physically as well as mentally, and Gai returned a weak smile when Ebisu passed him the beloved book. His old teammate asked Gai to share his feelings about the characters and the pairings when he finished, which Gai supposed was the fun part of getting into the story.

To be frank, Gai had been looking forward to seeing what the fuss was about now he felt he was mature enough. His interest was superficial, and goal simple. Perhaps he could connect with Ebisu and, specifically, his Eternal Rival better by getting to know the novel. Why did they like it so much outside of the titillating content? Maybe there was something special beyond the surface, ninjas were supposed to look beneath the underneath and all that. Pumped up and ready to go, Gai rushed to return home and was immediately disappointed to read nothing more than glorified, over-descriptive smut.

His face physically hurt from how red he was getting from embarrassment than actual arousal most of the time, and seeing flecks of what he didn’t want to presume was dried blood on the pages kind of killed any mood that was attempting to build up. In hindsight, he should have gotten a new copy instead of borrowing Ebisu’s. As for the writing, the quality of the narration dipped and swayed from a melodramatic romance (which wasn’t too bad in Gai’s opinion) to explicit and meandering passages about breasts, thighs, and butts. He had to put the book down at times to look blankly up at his ceiling and wonder. _What was this, and why was it so popular?_

After painful page-turning, Gai consequently got to _The Chapter_. The Chapter where Gashi, the protagonist, finally made a move on his childhood friend, Akai. The edges of the book crinkled under Gai’s crushing grip when his eyes tripped over familiar words. He couldn’t believe it.

In the book, the two childhood friends found refuge at a ryokan. Due to the busy summer season, they were forced to share a single room or had to face camping in the mountainous woods. Awkwardly they agreed to share, and night fell. The summer heat compelled them to lay on top of the covers of their futons.

_The thin fabric of Akai’s yukata accentuated every curve of her body, the moonlight, and the fireflies outside lighting the exposed expanses of her smooth skin. Summer had been kind to her, tanning her into a warm bronze, a lovely color that courted Gashi’s touch whenever he was given a chance to see. There was the faintest shine of sweat on her cheek, a reminder of the sultry temperature._

Gai ignored how it was summer now. His normally comfortable jumpsuit felt too clinging when he turned to a side to read more. Just a little more. Only to see where his rival had gotten the notion… The story unfolded further, neither person could sleep so Akai tried to make casual conversation about what they ate that night, mentioning some particularly sweet strawberries. Gashi said he knew something that was probably sweeter.

_‘Your lips.’_

Gai knew Kakashi was also called the Copy Ninja, but… this? He wanted to look away, but his eyes were entranced. They kept on going to the next word, and the next.

_Gashi reached for Akai in the dark but she pulled away, face bright red. ‘That’s not funny, Gashi!’ to which he responded, ‘It’s not a joke. I’ve always wanted you.’ He extended for her again and this time she allowed him to pull her closer._

_‘If you don't know how, I’ll teach you. We both have time to learn what we like together.’ He told her huskily._

_Akai flushed darker and looked deeply into his eyes._

_‘Those strawberries could never compare to the sweetest fruit.’ His hand cradled the back of her head, threading his fingers through her silky hair. He slowly pulled her into a kiss and tasted her lips. He swallowed her surprised yet happy gasp._

Gai was reading through strained, squinted eyes now. He didn’t want to continue. He told himself he shouldn’t go on when it was hitting so close to home. His mind unhelpfully flashed back to that day four years ago. Was this what Kakashi had been trying to do? He twisted wretchedly on top of his mattress, painfully aware of how hot the night was becoming.

In the book, Gashi leaned back from Akai to open her yukata and took in her naked form.

_‘You really have grown up to be the most alluring person I’ve ever met. No one else compares to you, Akai. I’ve seen you blossom from a shy, tiny bud into a full, buxom rose.’_

_Akai pulled Gashi into a passionate kiss. Her hands then moved to the obi belt holding his yukata closed, exposing his hot skin to the cool air of the night. They both gasped as their naked bodies finally touched skin to skin._

Gai slammed the book shut. Then shyly opened it once more.

_With nothing but sweet candlelight shining over her, Akai flipped Gashi onto his back and pushed his shoulders into the plush surface of the futon. Gashi looked at her in open-mouth awe, as her large, full chest bounced. The challenging twinkle in her eyes seized his heart and stole his breath._

_‘Don’t think I’m just going to let you call the shots, Gashi.’_

_He smiled at her and tried to push her over, but she held him firmly to the ground._

Oh! Hold on. This description was kind of like wrestling, wasn’t it? He and Kakashi did that all the time. If Gai could view it in that lens he could get through the book and figure out why Kakashi liked it so much. Yes, that was surely the way forward!

Skimming the subsequent passages of gratuitous and graphic sex, Gai substituted the novel with his mental picture. He’d often hypothesize duels with Kakashi, even theorizing about what Kakashi would do and how he would fight up to a hundred steps in advance. This would be just like those times.

_He imagined himself kicking Kakashi’s feet out from under him at the training ground they usually frequented. Without preamble, Gai straddled him, and using the strength of his thighs and legs, grounded his rival to get the win. But he didn’t want to just give himself the point without a challenge, even in a hypothetical scenario, so the Kakashi in his head shifted their weights in a counter grapple, hooking an arm under one of Gai's legs and rotating his waist so he was on top. Gai’s head struck the soft grass and sank further into the ground by the force pushing him from above. His rival's arm was an iron bar holding the imaginary version of himself down, but the next move was already formulating in Gai’s head. He could force Kakashi off if he tried somersaulting back but… then he felt Kakashi’s hot breath over his face._

_They were both breathing heavily from exertion and a thin sheen of sweat coated their skin, causing their hair and clothes to cling to them. Kakashi looked deeply into his eyes, enough for Gai to see his own exasperated face before that black eye flicked down to his lips. “Ah, wait, Kakashi,” Gai wanted to say but then his rival leaned in, whispering, "It's okay if you don't know how. I'll teach you." Kakashi closed the distance between their mouths and—_

Gai slammed the book onto the nightstand and grabbed a pillow to hide his head as he buried his face into another one.

“I can’t believe he’s such a dumbass! And argh, I can’t believe I like him!” Gai shouted, and the sounds muffled into the safeguard of his pillow. Next, as quietly as he could muster, he counted backward from one thousand to calm his shamefully hot body.

He returned the book to Ebisu the next day and said it was not for him to Ebisu’s noticeable disappointment.

Ah! Gai shakes his head. What is he thinking about at a time like this? During this important conversation with his Eternal Rival, no less! As subtle as he can, Gai meets his knees up and attempts to casually wrap an arm around to sandwich them together. It’ll take him a minute to calm his maddeningly responsive body; isn’t he supposed to be in his thirties? Why is he acting like he barely reached adulthood? Oh, wait, maybe this is a good thing, it means he’s still spry and Youthful inside—

“No, we weren't equal at all. You knew how to deal with people without being cruel. I can't even help being callous when I'm trying to show misguided ‘kindness’,” Kakashi says, and relieves Gai from the embarrassing mental commentary.

“Huh?!” Gai splutters, an unintended effect from not paying his full attention. Kakashi makes a face. Gai hopes he didn't accidentally spit on his rival.

Kakashi scratches into the thick stormcloud of silver hair. He says without even a flinch, “I’m talking about what I said before, Gai. When we were twenty? I _made_ you suffer to show you what I was going through, and for what…? Scaring you off? It was vile. I was heartless to you, someone who just wanted to help me.”

His rival mutters a question asking why Gai didn’t just stop trying to reach out to him after that mission. Gai releases his legs pressed against his chest and stretches them so they touch the floor, suddenly restless. Kakashi is digging at wounds Gai has left to scar over years ago, but he supposes Kakashi never got the same closure. To his rival, these wounds are still open and festering. Gai smiles through the pain, the hurt he feels for his friend. That’s the reason why, even after all the agony and all the long nights thinking, Gai made his decision back then.

“It’s not lost to me,” he gently wades into the conversation, “that you think you are the reason that so many of your precious people have died. You were pushing me away so you’d be alone in the dark, where you thought you belonged. But, Kakashi, you taught me that the dark is comforting when _someone is by your side._ And because of that, I refused to let you suffer alone. Whether or not you were able to properly reciprocate our friendship at that time isn’t important to me. I understood what you were doing and why. It was your way of _self-sacrificing_ for others. But!”

A fist shoots through the air and Kakashi leans back to dodge it in time. Gai knows he would, that’s why he threw it! Gai grins.

“I refused to let you disappear into the darkness! I would not abandon you even if I was the only one who would wade through the shadows to find you!” Gai says, crossing his arms and nodding. Then he sobers up, dropping his bold enthusiasm to say, “This wasn’t just childish bluffing either, Kakashi. I didn’t foolishly take this task without understanding what I was getting into. I will not lie to you. I debated whether or not I was making the right choice and whether or not my continual attempt to pull you out of the dark would cause an irreversible strain on our friendship. But in the end… I could not idly stand by. Especially when no one else wanted, or cared to step in. I… I couldn’t. I couldn’t see the person that I lo—”

Gai stops himself when he sees his rival’s bare shoulders stiffen.

“O-one of the people that I love! I couldn’t see _one of the people that I love_ lost to darkness when there was something I could do!’ He cleared his throat and hoped that Kakashi wouldn't point out his flub. Kakashi says nothing but the tips of his ears and his visible cheek are flushed pink. _Shit._

"Ahem! Anyway, I hope that answers any question you had about my thought process at the time! Now, if you would be so kind as to do me the favor of changing us again, Rival, it’d be very much appreciated!"

There’s a muffled snorting sound before a small chuckle escapes Kakashi’s mask. Gai squints at him, slightly annoyed by Kakashi’s non-answer for a second, but eventually, his heart swells with endearment. Of course, his rival would react in such a modern fashion to his slip up. It’s vexing how weak he is to Kakashi’s little quirks.

Kakashi lifts his head to look at Gai fully and something Gai can’t quite place dances in his rival’s black and red eyes. He gently places his hand at the back of Gai’s head. Ah, is their sightline misaligned? It doesn’t seem like it. Then?

Gai can’t help the skittish tickling of all of his nerve endings, the offbeat rhythm his heart plays, and the immense wave of feeling he’s got no counter for. It’s total compliance, a resignation to the merciless vulnerability, the softness of Hope.

This touch… it can’t be flirting, can it? Kakashi has said it — he knows Gai loves him — and Kakashi... hasn’t said anything like that. So, this is… this is a gentle rejection on the part of his Eternal Rival. Yes, this is the way Kakashi’s been activating the genjutsu this entire time, is it not? Gai shouldn’t read into it.

Trying to not make things awkward, he leans into Kakashi’s hold to help with the genjutsu and wills his traitor heart to slow down, slow down. Bravely he flickers his gaze up to Kakashi’s and blinks along with his rival. When they watch each other as twenty-seven-year-olds, they both breathe out. Gai wonders why Kakashi’s been holding his breath. But his rival says nothing, and unthreads himself as gently as he had interwoven his fingers in Gai’s hair, and moves back slightly on the bed.

Kakashi at twenty-seven. Gai cocks his head and rubs his chin, grinning. How Cool his rival is, with that disinterested affect and stoic calm! However, there is something there as well, a warm border on the indifferent chill like sunbeams on ice. There’s an inviting shine. Yes, the image of this Kakashi is different from the one who lived in Gai’s memories. The Genin Sensei Kakashi was a far cry from the Kakashi in his ANBU years, all of a sudden rebellious and blasé to duty — coming in languorously to training, never filling mission reports if he could, publicly reading sordid things in front of children — but he was still another mask, another front.

And yet Gai knows he has given his heart to both of those personas. However, this rendition of twenty-seven-year-old Kakashi _is_ happily laid-back, not playing at it anymore. And the knowledge of this makes Gai’s cheeks pinch so much from beaming too broadly.

“What is it, Gai- _sensei_? Do I have something on my mask?” Kakashi cheekily asks and Gai knows Kakashi’s imitating his precious student once again. Definitely not cute, and Gai means it. A frown weighs down his eyebrows and tightens his forehead, and he bites down on his lip when his mind evokes Kakashi’s words prior. His rival, ever astute, must have sensed Gai’s irritation because he tenses up.

Gai had figured out at this age that Kakashi had a problem with him teaching Lee about the Eight Gates, but he hadn’t known how deep the derision went, or how personal the resentment was. It’s shocking to know that Kakashi had once felt hatred in his heart for Lee. Gai would have never been able to tell based on how Kakashi acts now, at thirty-two… and thinking back, even at twenty-nine, twenty-eight… his rival has treated Lee with affection, it almost feels surreal.

It’s hard; Kakashi made it clear he has moved on, but this is new information for Gai to process. He knows Kakashi regrets hating Lee and cares about his well-being. It has been Kakashi’s conflict, Kakashi’s resolution. It’s like Gai with what happened when they were sixteen and his crisis of faith that Kakashi had no idea about. He doesn’t want to punish Kakashi for something his rival has worked past, but his blood runs too hot for his liking. He is appalled his rival could have had such cruel thoughts about his beloved student.

Clasping his hands together, Gai uncharacteristically hunches. His head is heavy and he allows his posture to slump momentarily before correcting himself. Although he wants to avoid Kakashi’s face, not for his rival’s judgment but his own should he see another expression he finds distasteful, his curiosity and inherent trust tells him to look at his Eternal Rival.

“If I had told you about changing my dream instead of you finding out until Lee was in the hospital, what would you have done, Kakashi? Would you have supported me, or fought me?” Gai asks. Maybe there would have been less bitterness if Kakashi had known.

“Come on, Gai. Would you have changed your mind even if I won that argument?” Kakashi asks back. “I didn’t confront you to argue when I found out as I did, I knew it was a decision you hadn’t made on the spot. I knew it was rooted like a century-old cedar… and that’s not a dig on your age.”

Gai chuckles, deep in his aching chest. He sighs and his hands are clammy.

“Rival, I’m still shaken up about what you said, about how you felt about Lee, but I know you’re not that person anymore. If anything, I am proud of how much you have grown and because of the growth, I would have never guessed you felt that way. You’ve changed so much, Kakashi; we both have. We are now so different from those two young boys who met in front of the Academy all those years ago. I’m glad I was able to grow with you.”

Kakashi doesn’t stop staring. Both of them don’t avert their loaded eyes. Gai sees all of himself in the reflection and remembers what Kakashi said before. Kakashi has said he was afraid the space in Gai's heart had been taken up. He wonders, does Kakashi think the same way about his own heart? How much of Gai is within Kakashi? Is it like his image now framed in the obsidian of his rival’s eye?

“Hey, Kakashi…” Gai’s voice trembles and he doesn’t clear it this time around. If he does, he’s worried all sound will leave his throat. “You said you felt like the space in my heart for you had gotten smaller, do you really believe that? ” He asks.

His rival has been clear-cut on who he paid attention to, those who he ignored, and that allocation makes so much _sense_ when coupled with Kakashi’s words prior. His rival holds the people dearest to him close, but there’s only so much room.

Gai ponders about this space. Is it finite? Fluid? Unchanging? Does it disappear over time? Or grow until it bursts and spills over into the next room? When does Kakashi decide whether or not to open or close these doors to his heart?

Kakashi had called himself _pathetic._ What did he mean by that, why did his rival fret so much? “Is that... how do you see yours?”

A silent inquiry latches on at the end, a stowaway just like Gai had been on that flying ship, beseeching Kakashi, _‘How much space do I take up in yours?’_

His rival doesn’t blink. And Gai’s afraid he’s made a wrong move, leaped again before he’s looked. His heart thumps against his ribcage, and Gai mindlessly counts the beats as a means to get his nerves in check, but counting to 175 in a minute does the opposite of calming. So he rushes forward, words sprinting to match the workout, saying, “I’m not judging you or anything like that! I’m just trying to understand where you’re coming from!”

And maybe it was the right move to make because Kakashi ends up chuckling and the air around them melts sweet.

“I know, you wouldn’t judge me like that.” Kakashi replies and Gai’s heart picks up speed. Ah, it’s probably not healthy for it to beat that fast. Kakashi sighs, rolls his neck around, and looks off to the side. “But I did. For a long time, I did.”

His rival murmurs, “It was easier... to live that way. For the longest time, any time I opened up my heart to someone, they died. So I limited myself, closed my heart off. I didn’t want to have so much of someone else within me, and end up becoming their ghost’s keeper. I didn’t want to lose someone who could take up so much residence in my heart.

“And it worked for a while. You were there in it, Tenzo, the others… the kids… all compartmentalized, safe under lock and key. But then when I lost Sasuke, and Naruto left to travel, and Sakura busied herself… I wondered if my bonds with them, and with the others, with you... had reached their limit, and that was the closest we could be, just an arms-length away. And that was my limit. My heart couldn’t care more, because I had ruthlessly trained it to keep everyone in a box which could never grow.

“But then, during the war, in the events leading up to it, in the mundane, in the heat of battle, in the events ending it… These boxes, these rooms, I don’t know when but I learned I had the capacity to love a lot more than I once thought. It’s why I was able to be stronger in every way. There was no limit to me anymore, and knowing that, I… Gai, I felt so stupid about everything before. It’s why I called myself ‘pathetic.’ So, tell me… what about you?”

Kakashi stares at him with desperation unseen before on his face. Even with the mask on, the thorough, reaching stare has Gai sucking in a breath, understanding Kakashi has silently echoed the question. _‘How much space do I take up in yours?’_

“I’ve never seen my heart as something that could do anything but grow. The space in it never diminished, instead, it expanded to make more room for the people I care about. My affection for you didn’t lessen when my students came into my life, I hope you know that now. Ah, well, you must haha... Y-you said it yourself, you know I love you.” Gai says.

This conversation has been the first time Kakashi’s made any acknowledging statement about this in their almost three decades of knowing one another. His rival knows, then, how much Gai loves him. But Gai, he is unsure about Kakashi’s feelings.

He wrings his hands because it is easier than wringing his heart out. It is simpler than wringing out the tears caught in his eyes. He doesn’t know when it started, when he really started to like Kakashi as more than rivals, more than friends, _the more, more, more_ of it seizing his soul and wanting it to collide with Kakashi’s.

Yes, Gai is unsure if Kakashi loves him as he does. Unsure because recently it feels like Kakashi has changed enough for Hope to fill in Gai’s heart and weigh it down with exquisite gravity. Gai hasn’t said anything about it. Kakashi, too, is characteristically comment-less on this change, because it’s a shared unspoken secret. The current way Kakashi has been looking at him lately, touching him lately, is a newfound development. The grazing stares at his face, the lingering grip on his shoulder, they’re long. Explorative, but _fragile._

At the start, Gai was confused by these occurrences, a question mark hovering, but with each passing roam of Kakashi’s eyes or fingers, the punctuation of his psyche has morphed into a series of ellipses, each longer than the last, hoping the same for his surveyor’s interest in him.

Gai is a ninja, knows too well of reading underneath the underneath. He’s aware Kakashi isn’t acting mindlessly, there’s some intention. There’s got to be intention when Kakashi leans forward on the wheelchair so that his chest presses against the back of Gai’s head, heart-to-mind. There must be intention in the way, last night, after getting dinner, Kakashi ran his hand through the back of Gai’s hair and said it was getting too long and Gai needed a haircut.

The back of his neck tickles again from the memory of Kakashi’s gloved palm and bare fingertips. From how Kakashi’s nails lightly traced into his scalp, made him shiver ever so slightly, whereas inside he was shaking underneath the barricade of his ribcage. From the _intention_ in the way Kakashi whispered, “Do you want some help?”

Is it reciprocated? Maybe Kakashi wants _more_ as well, and his looks are equally longing like the sunflowers adoring the soaring sun, like the wave crashing itself on the shore to touch the sand with streaming gentleness, like how Gai has been loving Kakashi a little more since every second of every minute from the beginning of this conversation, from since his heart awakened. Because with Kakashi, Gai has discovered something else with his ardent passion: self-renewal. Kakashi always made Gai feel the most like himself and accepted to the core of himself. Perhaps that’s why Gai can love so much… because he has felt loved, utterly, by Kakashi. So perhaps, it is reciprocated…?

Then Gai flickers his eyes up from his hands and sees that his rival has looked away. The plummet inside his chest lands hard in his gut. Maybe it is reciprocated and maybe _it is not._

A dark thought creeps in, inevitably as dusk will fall on every day. Maybe Kakashi is always by his side now because of guilt and pity.

Because Gai’s no longer Kakashi’s equal.

The warm feeling from before, curiosity, and that awful, terrible Hope flames up hot in his face and turns into cinders. He’s ashamed. How can he enjoy having Kakashi’s undivided attention when his rival has never meant for his affection to be more than friendship, more than pity, more than addressing the guilt of the wounds he has inflicted.

Maybe Hope has blinded Gai with its dazzling brilliance. It has caused him to read into interactions in search of the conclusion he wanted. But no amount of skimming ahead will create a _happy ending_ that wasn’t there to begin with. A ninja can’t see beneath the underneath if they're actively looking for a certain outcome, rather than observing what’s there. Gai was hoping he was correctly reading into Kakashi’s love as Kakashi had read into Gai’s. However, it’s becoming clear that some pictures are merely projections. That some memories are only temporal illusions. Well, it’s time. There’s no better time than now.

“You’re right that I love you. I’ve loved you so fiercely since we were children. You are my Eternal Rival, my goal, my comrade, and my most trusted friend… that’s why I am so sorry, Kakashi, that I can’t match your feelings.”

He bows his head and feels the bed move. Kakashi’s reaction must be something awful. Gai lifts his eyes and confirms it. His rival’s sight is on him, eye slightly narrowed, as if in pain. Kakashi’s breathing is slow, but one that’s forced to slow. To tell the body to calm down a panic. Gai hates it, thinks maybe he should stop, but there’s no way out of this mess outside of pushing through this mire.

“When I first started challenging you, my intentions were just to have a rival that would push me to be better. You were perfect in that regard and I was so excited to grow by your side.... but then things changed… The way we viewed each other and this relationship changed.”

“Gai, I—” Kakashi’s voice is strained, but Gai puts up a hand. He needs to finish this. Kakashi can reject him later at the end.

“It’s okay, Kakashi, really. You being my rival will never change. Unless you don’t want anything to do with me after this and I’ll understand if you don’t. I’m the one who couldn’t be satisfied with the way things are. I wanted you as more than a rival. More than a friend.” He notices his tone has gotten wobbly. He has to stay strong. Don’t buckle.

“What?” Kakashi’s hoarse voice is a welcomed slap of reality. Gai can’t fall into the melodrama, he should be aware of how this must all be to Kakashi, finally learning how Gai has betrayed his trust and friendship.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you earlier when I first realized that the reason why I loved coming up with those contests was that I wanted to spend time with you. Sometimes when I challenged you to contests under the pretense of rivalry... I couldn’t help but _hope_ at times that our challenges were like… like dates,” he feels a rush of heat spread across his face at the shameful admission.

"Once I realized why I was so happy whenever you agreed to my invitations I felt so guilty. You were just humoring me and here I was imagining a version of you that could reciprocate my love. I’m truly sorry for that, Kakashi. And for whatever it’s worth, after I fully understood my feelings, I never expected anything from you. But, there was always a part of me that… hoped.” Gai can’t keep his emotions in check. Tears are welling up.

“Hope felt like a betrayal. You were already giving me so much by showing me parts of yourself that you showed to no one else and even though I tried, I couldn’t just be satisfied with that. I was hoping for more. You’re right that I’m in love with you, and I’ve… I’ve always carried a flame for you, Kakashi. There were times when it wavered, but it never blew out. As much as It hurt to be hopeful, I couldn’t give on it,” He laughs wetly. His voice breaks near the end but he figures he deserves the humiliation after holding on to this secret for so long. “Even now I’m lit up inside. Even now, I carry this Hope that you...”

Kakashi is breathing fast and shallow, eye wide and shining bright, and doesn’t say anything. Gai chuckles weakly, burdened and unburdened all at once with his love for Kakashi, and wipes and hides his heart-torn tears with his hands.

But then a gloved palm and bare fingertips pull Gai’s fists away from his face like undraping a curtain. Gai fights it, but he loses easily to Kakashi’s gentle tug. He still tucks his head away, bearing the crown of shame atop his brow.

“Kakashi,” he says because there is nothing left to say. Nothing else his mouth wants to say except for this name.

“Gai. Look at me,” Kakashi whispers. And Gai shouldn’t because Kakashi has always said his eyes are too expressive, but there’s something about how his name sounds coming out of Kakashi’s mouth. Gai unlatches his eyes from fear and courageously glances over at — five-year-old Kakashi.

Gai’s face instinctively scrunches up in confusion and he feels long hair tickle at his suddenly chubby cheeks again. Before Gai can comment on this change, Kakashi is already beating him to the punch.

“Do you remember when you once called me your _‘Man of Destiny?_ ’” The child asks, his eyes crinkling with mirth.

Gai blushes, knowing that he’s being teased. When he had first learned that his mama had called his papa her _Man of Destiny,_ Gai wanted to use it for his _Eternal Rival,_ too. Now that he’s older, he knows what that title implies but as a child, the term just sounded cool and amazing, unique and one-of-a-kind — exactly what Gai thought Kakashi was. He had no idea just how apt the moniker would grow to be, how much he’d come to see Kakashi in that light. To answer Kakashi, he nods, hiding back into his red scarf.

“Can you do me a favor? Can… you say it again for me? Like you did at the Academy?” Kakashi asks again, this time soft, and quiet, and… Gai’s eyes sting, watery, and hopeful. He laughs, and it’s a detestable sound, vulnerable and childish, but his rival doesn’t let go of his hand. Gai clears his throat, draws his head out from the turtle shell of his scarf, and gives Kakashi his best, practiced grin. He already knows what Kakashi will say, so this is fine.

“Kakashi-kun, do you want to spend the springtime of your youth with me? You’re my Eternal Rival. My Man of Destiny!”

And then Kakashi will look at him blankly and say—

“Thank you, Gai,” Kakashi responds. Two eyes crimp up in a smile and Gai’s Nice Guy grin loses its shiny veneer when he closes his lips in a confused pout. What’s Kakashi doing?

Then, Kakashi’s free hand rises to his face and pulls down his mask. Gai sees the flash of skin and quickly darts to look away, but his left hand, caught in Kakashi’s right, entwined in Kakashi’s fingers, is pulled in. Gai is tugged closer. With a gasp, he ends up looking at Kakashi’s bare face, not a new sight but one he hasn’t seen in forever, and that uncovered mouth is grinning, a smile so big and bright that Gai can’t help but think: _I love you. I’ll always love you._

Giggling, Kakashi reaches his free hand behind his back and rummages through something, and Gai can’t believe his eyes when he brings it out. There’s a small black box in Kakashi’s palm. Kakashi’s deft fingers tremble as they flick up the box and there are two simple gold rings. Gai’s brain sputters to a halt and he tries to make sense of the situation.

“...You’re my Man of Destiny too,” his rival says and Gai’s mind is suddenly racing. Puzzle pieces snap into place and his world view shifts, rocking him to his core. Gai can’t breathe when his rival continues, “and when I’m older, will you marry me?”

Big, wobbly tears fall from Gai’s eyes and Kakashi doesn’t stop him, letting him cry it out. He blinks, and the hot, happy tears run down his face and drip off of his chin.

He blinks rapidly trying to clear his blurry vision, and the Kakashi in front of him has changed once more. He is twelve now, but with his scarred eye showing, mask left down so Gai can see him say, “...and when I’m stronger, will you marry me?”

In another flutter of wet lashes, they’re fourteen. Gai is fighting back his sobs, his face scrunched up, but Kakashi is tearing up too as he asks Gai, “...and when I’m braver, will you marry me?”

Sixteen. Kakashi tilts his head and a tear spills down a corner of his eye. The regret is thick in his voice when he asks, “...and when I’m _kinder_ , will you marry me?”

Gai’s trembling hand touches his own lips, trying not to choke from all the emotions roiling inside like a whirlpool, and they become twenty and Kakashi is asking now, those eyes glassy with unshed tears, and those lips saying, “...and when I’m softer, will you marry me?”

Gai lifts his right hand to rub at his eyes and twenty-seven-year-old Kakashi is squeezing his held hand. That capable right hand tangled up in Gai’s left, and he remembers now how Kakashi made Raikiri for him. Split lightning in order to protect him and it leaves Gai thunderstruck. How long has Kakashi loved him? How long has he loved him deeply enough to say to Gai at this moment, “...and when I’m wiser, will you marry me?”

And then Gai sees him, the Kakashi he knows so well. They’re both thirty-two years old, two grown men who have fought in two separate wars, have lost their friends and family, have gained friends and family, and have never strayed from each other’s side. Kakashi, with his two black eyes, one scarred but both full of emotion, stares into Gai, giving him a sense of _belonging_ so complete he’s enveloped Kakashi’s invisible embrace.

“Gai. I’m older now, stronger now, braver now, kinder now, softer now, and wiser now… I finally _caught up to you_ , Rival. Will you marry me?” Kakashi squeezes his hand again. The rings in the box glint. “You said you carried a flame for me, Gai. Well, you were the flame in my darkness, the light that I always coveted. You were never alone in your love.”

It’s too much, a sob escapes Gai, an audible throb of pain and pleasure. His heart has never experienced anything as sublime like this. He holds tight onto the hand of thirty-two-year-old Kakashi, the Kakashi he has grown up with all his life and in that life, has loved from the beginning and will to the end, whenever the end will be.

Gai nods. _Yes._ His head is going to come off from how fast and hard he’s nodding. There’s a breathy, unexpected laugh coming from Kakashi, and Gai snaps his head up to pout — _how could Kakashi laugh at a time like this_ — and instead sees his rival’s equally tear-wrecked expression and within it: Hope.

Gai lets go now and does the thing he’s wanted to do all of his life. He grabs Kakashi’s lovely, vexing, teasing, tormenting, wonderful face and pulls him in for a kiss.


	3. omake;

They’ve been sitting in the corner of a busy teahouse for the past two hours. Gai-sensei finishes his story, his hands regaling the air up and down as if he’s fighting but in all actuality, he’s emoting the highs and lows of his story. As he’s moving though, the simple and pretty gold band on his left hand catches the light, its shine a teasing wink in Tenten’s line of sight.

“And so I wanted you, my precious students, to be the first to know! This is a momentous occasion for me and I am glad that you three are with me for it.” He presses one of his hands to his mouth seemingly to compose himself and thank god he does because Lee to her left has been sobbing loudly and sniffling into a wet handkerchief for the past hour or so. To her right is another cup of tea for Neji. She sighs. He really had to go and leave her as the only person left to reign them all in. Neji would be happy for Gai-sensei of course, but she knows he would give her a look while the other two were busy weeping. He's probably already rolling in his grave. For all his aloofness Neji had an overprotective streak as long as a mile. She can readily imagine the grim face he'd make laying down his argument.

_Kakashi-sensei cannot be serious. A marriage proposal? Really? He didn't even properly court Gai-sensei. They haven't even officially dated!_

She sighs into her teacup and winces when she takes a sip; it had gotten cold where she had left it untouched an hour ago. She powers through it though, hoping the cup will hide part of her expressions as she responds to the imagined dialogue, " _It's not like this is really a surprise. We all thought they had been dating since we were kids anyway... It's actually kind of a relief that they're deciding to just get hitched instead of prolonging this any longer._ "

She feels a cold chill run down her neck and imagines it's Neji letting her know he disapproves. Geez, why can't he bother Gai-sensei or Lee with this?

“Sensei… hey, wait a minute. I don't want to be rude and while this is all really uh... sweet, don’t you think you’re rushing into things? Marriage is a really big deal! You shouldn't just jump into it!” Tenten mimics Neji's critique. “I mean, Kakashi-sensei just sprang that on you. And what happened after the proposal?”

Her sensei goes bright red and sheepishly rubs his neck. He fiddles with his cup, opens his mouth to say something, closes it, opens it again, drinks some tea, all while avoiding her gaze. “A-after? What happened after? Uh… ah.. I-I don’t remember? Yeah, that’s it! I don’t remember! I was so caught up in the emotion, it's all just a blur, haha!”

Tenten squints at him. That's a weird reaction. It reminds her of the few times when he was retelling the story where he blushed and seemed to skip over important bits. Somehow this is even worse to see than the loudly lovestruck teacher who’s been going off about the sheer creativity and ingenuity of his genius Eternal Fiancee-Rival and his Amazing Stupendous Romantically Youthful Genjutsu Proposal.

“A-Anyway, about the proposal… Well... Kakashi said he meant for it to be a promise ring of his love, but he ended up getting carried away, haha! And _I_ ended up getting carried away by _him_ getting carried away! And then, well… Ah, do you think I should call it off—?”

“No!" Lee slams down both his fists and the poor table cracks. "No! Sensei! You cannot!”

It seems he's finally been able to slow down his crying enough to speak, although it's almost unintelligible through the snot and tears. Tenten rolls her eyes and offers him her last napkin. After scrubbing his face and blowing his nose loudly, Lee shrilly declares, “Do you not love him with all of your manly emotions?! And haven’t you done so for so long, your heart strong and fierce?! Isn’t your passion for Kakashi-sensei one-hundred-percent true, Gai-sensei?!”

Tenten covers her ears through the strident yelling. Oh god, Lee. Everyone in the village is going to know _in the next hour_ if they keep this up. Even now, the rest of the tea shop's clientele are failing at pretending like they’re not completely engrossed in what Gai-sensei has been saying, loudly slurping their drinks as if that lessens the obviousness of their eavesdropping. But it seems like Lee’s words got through to their teacher, whose eyes are welling up with unshed tears.

“Oh, Lee! You’re right! I won’t back down from Kakashi’s challenge!”

“Gai-sensei! You’re so inspirational! I wish you the best in your engagement and that you come out as the victor!”

Lee and Gai-sensei embrace, a genjutsu sunset appearing behind them on cue.

“I don’t think a marriage proposal is supposed to be a _challenge_ , you two…” Tenten mutters but they don’t seem to hear her over the crashing waves in the illusion.

She rolls her eyes and sets down her cup. She wonders if she should try again but the gold band around her teacher’s finger is orange-bright under the light of sensei’s sunset genjutsu. Gai-sensei looks happier and more at ease than she’s seen him since before the war, and Tenten can’t help but think, _well, at least Kakashi-sensei has proven himself capable of making one smart decision._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are self-aware lmao - lapi & kay

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! funny thing, we decided on a coin flip if they were going to be virgins or not and the coin said, "abstain until engagement" lmao. we hope you guys enjoyed this story as much as we had fun delving into the characters' histories and psyches. 
> 
> a side note, we're currently looking for an experienced and dedicated beta reader for _sunflower_! if you're vibing with our headcanons and want to know more about what we have planned in store for that story, please leave a comment or dm me at my twitter [@lapifors.](https://twitter.com/lapifors) having a beta reader will help us release chapters faster and we're always looking for a bud to talk headcanons and story with. :) 
> 
> thanks again, and see you in the next story. - lapi


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